A Murdered Peace

15 The Mayor-Elect’s Feast

Musicians, puppeteers, jugglers, dancers – the yard that separated William Frost’s elegant home from his shops and offices on Micklegate had been transformed into a fairground covered by a brightly painted pavilion. And there was more – tables and carts serving savory pies and ale lined the alleyway leading to the back garden where musicians and jongleurs who had not been hired for the main festivities would continue to entertain the throngs of folk who had no invitations for the feast in the hall and beneath the pavilion later in the day. Kate had attended the mayor’s feast every year since arriving in York, all lavish affairs, but none could compare with this. Isabella and William had outdone themselves. Even the weather had cooperated, with clear skies and little wind, though it was cold.

Although the festivities had just begun, Kate already found it difficult to maneuver through the crowd. Marie, Petra, and Phillip shouted with glee and tugged her this way and that. Kate almost regretted having brought Lille and Ghent, but if things went wrong, she might need them, and quickly. Instructing Phillip to take charge of his sister and Petra and see to their safety, she was making her way to a relatively quiet spot near the house when Winifrith Neville caught her arm.

“My dear Katherine, I want to apologize for my behavior when you visited.” Over her shoulder she commanded her daughter Maud to see to the young children hanging onto Winifrith’s skirts. With a laugh, Maud plucked them off and swept them away. “I have some information that might make it up to you,” Winifrith said with a conspiratorial nod.

When they had found a bench on which they might sit with the hounds at their feet, Winifrith began.

“While Lionel’s been abed I took the opportunity to tidy the small room he uses as an office. And I found, well, he had hidden away – quite clearly meaning for no one to find it – a cache of silver coins and some jewels.”

That interested Kate. “Jewels? What did you do?”

“I confronted him, of course. He admitted to having taken payment from Merek the spice seller through Cecily Wheeldon for his passage on a ship.”

“For Merek’s passage? What had Cecily Wheeldon to do with that?”

Winifrith nodded. “I wondered that as well.”

“When? Did he say when Cecily delivered the payment?”

“He said it was the day of his ordeal. He had become impatient and sent his servant Fitch to warn Merek that he must receive payment before their meeting or he would not be sailing the next day. Apparently she appeared at his office shortly after that.”

Cecily Wheeldon. Jon Horner and Merek Lacy both had connections with her. She searched the crowd for the woman. “Lionel truly had no idea why she became involved?”

“None. He was taken aback, to put it mildly. He worried that Merek was up to mischief.”

“How did he know Merek?”

Winifrith looked down at Lille and Ghent, stroking their heads. “Oh, Katherine, you know how he is. He was so certain that you were cutting him out of his due. So he thought to partner with Merek on a shipment. Approached him with the idea, citing his experience with spice shipments and contacts that Merek would not have, not being from York.” A shrug. “My husband can be quite the fool. Even I, who have little time to go about in the city, knew the man was disliked, distrusted. And not merely because of being from the South.”

“I will call on him in a few days.” If all went well today. Kate had done her best. The rest was up to her co-conspirators. If …

Stop it. You need a clear head right here, Geoff hissed in her head.

“Lionel has been changed by this experience, Katherine. And he wanted me to tell you that he has spoken to both sheriffs, Wrawby and Cottesbrok, about how Berend saved his life. He has told them that he cannot believe Berend returned to the Shambles and murdered Merek.”

“Both of them?”

“He insisted.” Winifrith shook her head. “But it is the king’s man who worries me. If there is anything we can do.”

“I am grateful.” Kate rose as Thomas Holme approached, expecting him to greet her. But his attention was on his nephew, Leif, and a female companion who leaned on his arm and touched his cheek as they watched a group of jugglers.

“Go on, do. I am content to sit here for a while,” said Winifrith. “Thomas looks as if he’ll have quite a lot to say about his nephew’s paramour. Come report back to me.”

Her tone was good-humored, with a touch of relief, as if she had not expected to mend her friendship with Kate so easily. It had never been Kate’s intention to carry a grudge against her.

Kate promised to find her again later, and signaled to Lille and Ghent to accompany her.

“You look concerned,” said Kate as she joined Thomas.

“That Wheeldon woman,” he growled. “She is too bold with my nephew in public.”

Now, as the couple turned toward another group of entertainers, Kate could see that it was indeed Cecily Wheeldon who hung on Leif’s arm, and now patted his chest as she spoke. No question about her intentions. “You were not so against her the other day. Have you heard something to change your mind?”

“I know little except that there is some gossip about the manner of Ross Wheeldon’s death. How suddenly he was gone, and how little she seemed to mourn him.” He glanced at Kate with a sad smile. “I fear it might be so when I die, they will wonder what my Catherine saw in me, an old, plain man, and she so fresh and beautiful.”

Yet he met a mistress at Kate’s guesthouse. As did Sheriff John Wrawby, who was just now nodding to Kate as he passed her with his wife on his arm.

Elric turned his back to Berend to give him some privacy while he struggled into the women’s garb that Jennet had provided him. The goodwife who had accompanied Elric would remain behind, surprising the evening guards when they came to check on Berend. She was at present happily dining on the meal the beguines had delivered earlier. She was almost as large as Berend, a precautionary accomplice urged on him by Bess Merchet in case one of Sir Peter’s men were watching and had noticed Elric arrive alone and leave with a companion. He’d agreed, having learned to trust Bess’s judgment. Pray God his own proved as good. All night he had tossed and turned, questioning his reason. Today he would risk all that he had fought so hard to gain – his place in the earl’s household, the land that the earl had granted him for his service. Already he had risked much with Parr and Sawyer, though Sir Peter had expressed only gratitude when he delivered them up.

But what he was about to do – no, this Sir Peter would not forgive. And if he discovered that Lady Margery had been in York, and this evening would be ferried across the Ouse with Berend, then riding north with him – oh, that he would most definitely not forgive. Nor would the earl.

Elric risked much. For Katherine? No. He understood now that he’d never been more to her than a tool to be discarded when she had no more use for him. Had he really believed she might choose him over Berend? He’d seen how her eyes softened when she spoke of the man. He could not fault her taste. Berend was one of the most honorable men he’d encountered. And if even half the stories about his feats as an assassin were true, he was a skilled, fiendishly clever warrior. Elric admired that. So would Earl Ralph, if he were to meet him. If there had been a way … But Berend had a mission, a quest. God grant him the grace to complete it. Elric paced, waiting for Berend to tell him he might look.

Wulf and Stephen were guarding the door. Once Elric and Katherine had devised the plan, he’d sent two of his other men with Skulker – Wulf and Stephen were too crucial to the mission, men who were committed to Berend’s escape. At the door with them was a lad who could run like the wind and could quickly dispatch any necessary messages to Douglas and Harry, Elric’s men awaiting them at the staithes. From there, Berend would be taken downriver to Bishopthorpe, where Kevin waited with Lady Margery. Elric had sent him with a letter to the archbishop’s steward, who was a distant cousin of the Earl of Westmoreland. Another mad risk, using his earl’s name to beg a favor. But if all went well, the earl might never know. Pray God it was so.

Katherine had made this all possible, with a visit to Sheriff Wrawby and to one of the workers at the staithe yesterday. He had not been invited to the latter meeting, but he had played a role in her meeting with Wrawby, which had been one of the most uncomfortable interviews of his life. Elric knew Katherine was no more comfortable than he, but no one watching her could have guessed, and certainly not Wrawby, who squirmed and complained and then bowed his head and agreed. He was a customer at the guesthouse and feared being exposed not only to his wife, but to his fellow sheriff. God help him. Elric had asked what she would have done had Cottesbrok been the one who would be checking in on the day of the feast and she’d laughed – he was also a patron, though his wife knew of it. A cripple, his wife did not begrudge him his entertainments. She could not predict whether it would be Cottesbrok or Wrawby responsible for choosing who would be on duty today. She needed people who were sympathetic to Berend, or easily moved out of the way.

As Elric paced in the castle chamber the goodwife startled him, bursting into laughter. Looking up, Elric did as well.

“Jennet will pay for this,” said Berend, but he was grinning. The dress was made of undyed wool, the girdle woven flax and leather – a bit too nice for a washerwoman, Elric thought, but behind, beneath the darker cloak, it held Berend’s sword in a scabbard. The veil – oh dear God the wimple and veil accentuated the scars on his face, though they did cover the missing ear.

“Hell’s bells, you’re an ugly woman,” said Elric.

“No surprise there. I’m an ugly man.” Berend grew serious. “How safe is Lady Margery?”

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

Berend covered the chamber in four long strides without tripping.

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

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

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

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

“He will live,” Berend said.

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

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

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

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

As did Stephen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God help us, does he know?

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

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

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

“In Calais.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I have not. Would I like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So you had not heard?”

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

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

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

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

“How can I help?”

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

“I welcome it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodwife Tibby?”

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

“His mistress?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I– I just follow orders, sir.”

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

“We are the sheriffs’ men–”

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

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

“It’s not like that–”

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

Wulf started laughing. Elric joined in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Dame Katherine?” Berend asked.

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

Berend nodded to him.

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

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

“I do not regret following my conscience.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kate rose. “I will fetch them.”

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

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

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

She shook her head and promised Eleanor she would return in a moment, after she had completed her mission.

“There is a lad searching for you,” said Eleanor as Kate moved into the crowd. “There he is.” Kate turned as Eleanor motioned to the lad to approach.

“Mistress Clifford,” he bobbed to her, and drew two strands of leather out of his jacket. “What would you offer me for these fine leads for your hounds?”

God be thanked, it was the signal that Berend was off downriver. As she reached for the leather, he slipped a folded parchment into her hands as well.

“A ha’penny,” she said.

“For this fine leather?” he feigned dismay.

Laughing with relief, she gave him a penny and shooed him off. Ignoring her mother’s gasp of disapproval, Kate moved on, gathering the children and delivering them to their friend.

While the children settled around Hazel in her large bedchamber, Kate withdrew to a seat beneath one of the large windows, the hounds at her feet, and read the parchment. On the outer sheet Berend addressed her, explaining that he could not with clear conscience permit either Kate or Elric to be punished for their selfless acts on his and Lady Kirkby’s behalf. When Sir Peter discovered the betrayal he should be given the enclosed document, in which Berend listed all the names he could remember from the Oxford gathering, and swore that he had merely ascertained that the former king was indeed imprisoned in Pontefract. That he had accepted that mission in exchange for information regarding his former mistress and his son. He swore that to his knowledge Lady Kirkby was not in York.

Kate smiled at the last part. Well he might swear, knowing that Lady Margery awaited him at Bishopthorpe. Folding the parchments, she tucked them in her scrip and left the children giggling as the frail Hazel, with her fiery cheeks and too-bright eyes, weakly exclaimed over the baubles and candies the children had brought her.

Down in the yard, her mother paced. “There you are, my dear. Who was that sweaty boy that you felt obliged to buy his shoddy bits of leather?”

“One of Dame Jocasta’s rescues, Mother. He is a good lad, carrying messages for her about the city and trying to learn a trade.”

Eleanor sniffed. “Well, I suppose. Now, do introduce me to this gentleman coming along.”

“John Wrawby, the sheriff? You have not met him?”

“Not in a social setting, my dear.”

Wrawby seemed quite uncomfortable as Kate introduced him and his wife. While Eleanor took Mistress Wrawby in hand, he whispered, “When will we know?”

“We do. All went as planned.”

“God be thanked.”

Indeed.

As Kate moved away from them, she crossed paths with Thomas Holme and his pretty wife. While sitting in Hazel’s chamber she’d had an idea.

“Might I borrow your husband for a moment, Catherine?” she asked.

A little nod, a dimpling smile. “Anything for you, cousin.” Indeed, she was a Frost, and, like her husband, patronized Kate’s guesthouse. Her lover was a cleric of independent means, a man who had won her heart long before she’d wed. “I will be listening to the lute-player,” she told Thomas, patting his hand.

“I have a plan that might shake Leif from his obsession,” Kate told Thomas when they were alone, “but I need your assistance. If you would make certain he is at your warehouse near the staithes tomorrow at midday. Dressed well. Tell him I wish to get to know him better, to see whether I agree with you about him suiting us as a factor. Dress is important.”

“Oh, indeed. But I thought we had already agreed–”

“All part of the plan, Thomas. And how are his accounting skills?”

“Excellent. But what–”

She smiled. “Trust me, you will be happy with the outcome.”

“Midday tomorrow.” He nodded and hurried off to his wife, who was eyeing Captain Crawford with interest.

Elric bowed to Dame Isabella and proceeded into the large hall, looking up and down the tables for Katherine. He found her, resplendent in red brocade, seated beside her cousin William. No one sat to her left, but Captain Crawford was fighting his way toward that tempting opening. Another time, Elric would concede the floor, let someone else play the fool for Katherine. But this was business. Pushing through the crowd, he watched with dismay as Crawford reached Katherine first. But she shook her head at the captain and, looking directly at Elric, beckoned for him to join her.

“So it is true. You are courting her?” Crawford asked as Elric stepped past him.

He almost denied it, then remembered himself. “Did Dame Katherine not tell you?” He feigned concern.

“I had not the wit to ask,” said Crawford, bobbing his head and continuing his search for a seat.

“Sir Elric. As promised,” said Katherine, patting the space between her and her mother, Dame Eleanor, who beamed at him.

As Elric straddled the bench, he received a warning growl from Lille, who lay beneath the table with Ghent. He had not anticipated they would attend the feast.

With a hand signal, Katherine ensured that he had sufficient room to place both feet next to them. “I kept them with me in case,” she whispered.

A servant appeared across the table, asking Elric whether he preferred wine or ale. He chose the wine. More fortifying.

“All went well, except for two casualties at the castle,” he whispered to Katherine, then loudly exclaimed on the magnificence of the affair.

William Frost leaned across his cousin, welcoming Elric and encouraging him to eat and drink hearty.

“I fully intend to,” Elric assured him.

When William was distracted by another guest, Katherine asked, “Dead?”

“No. But there will be consequences. We must talk later.”

A long while later, after too many courses and almost too much wine, he and Katherine managed to escape for a walk in the garden, which was quiet now, the outside entertainment having given up after sunset as a harsh wind arrived with wet, driving snow.

“Pray God they reached shelter for the night.” Katherine held her fur-lined hood close to her face to block the wind. Lille and Ghent trotted at her side.

“It is up to them now. Little we can do.” He had given her a detailed account of Berend’s departure.

“You have risked everything for my friends.”

“I have followed my conscience. If my lord condemns that, then I have learned a hard lesson. But I do not regret my actions. As far as Sir Peter– I saw him slumped over the table, so I’ve no concerns tonight. But on the morrow …”

He was silenced by Katherine’s sudden move to stand in front of him, her face close to his. She handed him something.

“You must deliver this to Sir Peter when he comes calling. A thank-you from Berend.”

He looked down at the folded parchment, up at her dark eyes. She smelled of wine, nutmeg, cinnamon. Christ, she was so close he might … He shook his head, coming to his senses.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A list of all the men he could identify in Oxford. And a sworn statement that Lady Kirkby was not in York.” She smiled. “Sir Peter has little to complain of, with you delivering up Parr and Sawyer as well as this list.”

He felt a rush of relief. “But why? He was so adamant.”

“He wrote that you had helped them selflessly. He could not but do what he could to protect you from the king’s wrath.”

Lille gave a warning growl.

Elric drew his dagger.

A man approached, crunching through the freshly fallen snow over the icy remains of yesterday’s storm.

Katherine motioned the dogs in front of her.

Arms up, the man called softly, “It’s Harry!”

Elric relaxed.

“Forgive me for intruding.” Harry stopped well away, eyeing the hounds.

Katherine called them back to her side. “Come closer, so that you need not raise your voice against the wind.”

“All went as planned?” Elric asked.

“The crossing was rougher than expected and she was unwell, but he assured us he knew a farmhouse nearby where they would be welcome for the night.” Harry turned to Katherine. “Your wards are in your cousin’s hall, looking for you. Young Hazel has taken a turn and they were sent away.”

Elric assured Katherine that the two of them would escort her and the children home. She did not refuse him.