A Twisted Vengeance

15 Requiem

Candles and oil lamps lit the altar and circled down round the corpse laid out on the floor before it. Eleanor and Jocasta knelt on prie-dieux, praying, while the gray-robed Friar Gerald knelt on the floor beside the body, within the circle of light. The sisters stood behind the prie-dieux, heads bowed, chanting a litany, their voices soft.

Kate and Berend stood just within the garden door. He’d already told Kate that Lille and Ghent had found nothing, the storm having washed away the scent, though the hounds seemed keen to continue on to the staithe. Matt had offered to go search for a boat on the far bank. An aunt lived near there, and he knew the folk who lived near the bank. If someone had noticed anything in the night, they would tell him. Berend had thanked him and sent him off, for which Kate was grateful.

Outside the circle of light, the shadows lengthened as the clouds darkened the day. Another storm – Kate had sensed it coming, the heaviness of the air, the stillness. She closed her eyes, hoping the ritual might quiet her thoughts. This moment was for grief, for prayers for Werner’s soul, nothing else. But her mind continued to spin with the questions and possibilities stirred up by her mother’s revelations. Above Kate, heavy drops began to hit the roof. Pat. Pit pat. Pit pat pat patter. Quickly growing to a loud drumming. Out on the street, a man loudly cursed.

Friar Gerald’s voice rose in prayer and the novice assisting him, just a youth, he seemed, stepped out of the shadows beside Berend and moved forward, adding his high voice to those of the women as he entered the circle of lamps. Friar Gerald rose, took a cup of oil from his assistant, and sprinkled it over Werner. He had died unshriven, but perhaps his spirit lingered. Kate stepped away from Berend as Gerald and the novice approached. Friar Gerald made the sign of the cross over Kate and Berend, and then he and the novice took a seat on a bench near the door.

The service over, Eleanor directed Rose to open the shutters so that the sisters could see to clean Werner and then sew him into the shroud. The flames danced wildly in the draft from the storm.

Jocasta rose to greet Kate. “I came to see whether they were happy with Friar Gerald, and found my answer in that they had already sent for him in their need. Dear God, such a need. What more must they endure?” She crossed herself. “I feel blessed to be given this opportunity to help these gentle sisters, to support them in their grief, to join their beautiful voices lifted in prayer. And especially to comfort Sister Dina, to assure her that the murders are not the result of her courageous act. I will assist them in preparing his body after you have seen what you need to see.”

“And Friar Gerald?”

“He awaits the wishes of Dame Eleanor.”

As do we all, Kate thought.

The maidservants were snuffing the candles not needed by the sisters and setting them on a table to trim. The lamps flickered on the altar.

“If we might move him closer to the light from that window before you sew him into the shroud,” said Kate. She turned to the younger friar. “Would you help Berend do so?”

Both Gerald and his novice rose to assist Berend. The men worked in silence, moving Werner, then tenderly unwrapping him. A cry of pain from Kate’s mother shattered the quiet moment. Sister Dina was the first to go to her, cradling Eleanor’s head against her breast and whispering to her.

Kate crouched down to examine the blood-encrusted slash in Werner’s neck.

Berend knelt opposite, watching her.

She nodded to him that she was able to do this. With care she straightened Werner’s jacket, noting the bloodstains and the mud and muck from where he had lain. Following down the sleeves to his wrists, she found no sign of ligatures. Opening his jacket, she noted to Berend that his shirt was filthy. Whatever he had been doing, he had not considered it necessary to wash and tidy himself. He wore thick hose, warm for summer. Sleeping outside?

“He’s been in the water.” Berend pointed to the discoloration that rose halfway up his thighs, and the sad condition of his shoes.

There was some bruising on one ankle, bad bruising. It would have been painful to walk. He might have limped. What had this man suffered before his death? Had he known he was next? For clearly this was a pattern – Ulrich, then his servants. Was Griffin next? Where was Griffin?

Sister Clara joined them, holding out a pair of scissors. “To cut away his clothes so we might wash him. Shall I?”

Berend held out his hand. “I will do it.”

Clara bowed and handed him the scissors. But she did not withdraw. Kate touched her arm. “He was your friend?”

“On our long journey he saw to our safety, and I am grateful.”

Both turned to watch as the long, slender blades cut through the rough fabric of Werner’s clothes, revealing a well-muscled body riddled with sores. Kate reached out to touch them, then looked more closely at the undergarment he wore beneath his shirt. “A hair shirt. Penance,” she whispered.

Sister Clara crossed herself, and, as she bowed her head, a sob escaped her. “Such a good man.”

Kate wondered. A good man? Or had he donned the shirt when he feared for his own soul – perhaps his own life? Many turn to piety in fear, including her mother.

A gust sent the lamps sputtering as someone opened the garden door. Kate turned and, seeing Sir Elric with Phillip, hurried to greet the newcomers. That they were together made her heart race. More trouble. She embraced Phillip, then anxiously looked him over. His workaday tunic and breeches were soaked from the downpour. To be out in the storm, and after such a murder.

“We must get you out of those wet clothes,” she began.

Phillip shrugged out of her grasp. “Not now.”

Sir Elric was shaking his head as he looked toward the sisters kneeling over the corpse. “Another death.”

“Werner, the other servant,” said Berend. “Murdered. His throat slit.”

Taking off his hat, the knight crossed himself. “By the rood, this is an evil business. I was on my way with news of my own when I caught sight of young Phillip hastening in the same direction.” He nodded to the boy. “Tell them.”

Phillip shifted on his feet, water seeping onto the floor from his wet shoes. Tempted to suggest he remove them, Kate bit her tongue.

“I wanted to tell you before I began work – Griffin met with Dean Richard again last night, and this morning, when I went to the mason’s lodge, the dean’s carts were gone. The men said Dean Richard and Dame Helen left just after sunrise.”

Werner was murdered and her uncle fled. Is that how it was? But why? “Uncle Richard met with Griffin in the minster?”

Phillip nodded. “Again, it was late. Master Hugh is worried about a settling in a corner of the east end, so he is up late every night with the other master masons working on a solution. Dame Martha wanted him to have a cloak and a flask of brandywine to warm him – the stones of the minster keep it cool, and drafty at night. As I passed through the nave I saw Dean Richard and Griffin sitting in one of the chantry chapels again, talking softly. The dean seemed upset.”

“And Griffin?” Kate asked.

Her mother glanced up from her prayers, watching them.

“He looked weary,” said Phillip, “rubbing his face as if to keep himself awake.” The boy’s attention kept straying toward the sisters cleaning Werner. “Do you think Griffin knew? Was he telling the dean of the murder?”

“I would have expected Griffin to tell Dame Eleanor rather than Dean Richard,” said Kate. Her mother rose. “How late was this?” Kate asked.

“Before midnight,” said Phillip.

“Then they met before Werner was attacked,” said Kate, assuming that what had wakened her and the hounds in the night had been the moment Werner was murdered. Had Griffin and her uncle met to plan it? An unwelcome suspicion. Kate thanked Phillip for bringing the news. “Go to the kitchen where it’s warm. Dry yourself–”

“I’m not a child,” he grumbled.

Reluctantly, Kate desisted, instead turning to Phillip’s companion. “And you, Sir Elric? What is your news?” From the corner of her eye she observed her mother approaching, her head tilted as if straining to overhear their conversation.

“My men report that Sir Alan left your tenement early this morning, his esquire and manservant with him, carrying their packs. Moving with stealth. At Toft Green he met up with the men Thatcher had been cooking for – though Thatcher himself was not in the party. They headed out the gates just ahead of your uncle’s carts. Or with them. My men say they all seemed to know one another.”

Sir Alan? Is that why he wore no badge; he did not wish her to know that he was a Clifford retainer? She glanced at Berend, who was staring down at the ground, shaking his head. Eleanor stood directly behind him, craning her head forward. Why would her uncle wish to hide Sir Alan’s affinity from her?

“I am surprised to learn that my uncle might be traveling with Sir Alan,” said Kate.

“So much early morning activity after a murder in the night.” Elric shook his head. “Though I cannot yet see the connection, I cannot help but think one led to the other.”

Eleanor finally spoke up. “Ever since I saw Sir Alan in High Petergate I have been certain it was not the first time we met, but I could not remember where it might have been. Now I do. He was one of the retainers escorting your father’s cousin Thomas, Baron Clifford, to our hall years ago, on one of his last visits before his death. Sir Alan was clean-shaven then, a rather handsome young man.” Eleanor touched Sir Elric’s arm. “When your men saw the travelers by Micklegate Bar, did they have a woman in their company? Nan?”

“My men said nothing of a woman. It is possible she was in one of the carts.”

Kate wished her mother had shared her suspicions about Sir Alan earlier. Why wait until now? “What else do you suspect, Mother?”

“I fear Griffin has uncovered a Clifford plot against Ulrich’s men and he is in danger. Help him!”

“A Clifford plot against Ulrich’s men? Did you suspect this all along? But what had my uncle to do with your late husband?”

“Not necessarily your uncle the dean, but the family. I– I have feared this.”

Most infuriating of women. All this time she had feared – what? “Precisely what do you think happened?”

Eleanor shook her head but said nothing.

“Why did you not–” Kate bit her tongue. Not now. She looked to Elric and Berend. “We must follow them. I want to know what they are about. Or what they have done.”

“Katherine, is that wise?” Eleanor asked. “Let Sir Elric and his men go after them.”

Kate could not look into her mother’s eyes. She would spit at her. “Wise or no, I am going, Mother.”

Elric bowed to Kate. “If you mean to catch up to them, we must make haste. I can have horses awaiting you outside Micklegate Bar within the hour. Provided I ride with you. And Berend?”

Kate nodded. “Berend as well.”

“What about me?” Phillip asked.

Kate wanted to tell him to stay here, get out of his wet clothes, but she did need him. My Lord, watch over him. “Return to the minster yard,” she said. “Watch the deanery. If you see any sign of Griffin–” She looked to Elric.

“My men are searching the house Sir Alan vacated.”

“You took it upon yourself to search the house? Why all this interest?” Kate demanded.

“Forgive me, but it seemed wise to make certain the missing maidservant was not tied up, left there to starve. The earl charged me with keeping peace in the city.”

“And to make note of the knights’ alliances, no doubt,” said Kate.

“That as well.” Elric turned to Phillip. “I have men standing watch at St. Mary’s Abbey – in case someone wants to silence my man Kevin. Go to them with any news.”

Phillip nodded. “I will.”

“Who will see to us?” asked Eleanor.

“Jennet will be next door, guarding Marie and Petra,” said Kate. “Shelter in my house if you feel unsafe.”

“And the hounds?” asked Eleanor.

“They will come with me,” said Kate.

“I suggest you keep Friar Gerald here, Dame Eleanor,” said Elric. “The threat of a curse will scare off the likes of Bran and Carter. All the others are leaving – the knights and soldiers are clearly on their way to wreak havoc elsewhere.”

Dame Eleanor sniffed at his reassurance, but prayed aloud that God would watch over them, and then withdrew.

As Kate, Berend, Elric, and Phillip moved out into the garden, they were hailed by a breathless Matt rushing round the corner of the house from the alleyway, limping slightly. He rested a hand on Berend as he bent forward to catch his breath.

“You found something?” Berend asked.

A weak nod. “A small boat belonging to my aunt Alice.” He took a few more deep breaths before straightening. “She has been in a fury since the soldiers crowded onto Toft Green. On recent mornings she has been finding her boat left far from its usual spot, and sometimes it’s not there at all, but on the far bank. A cousin who works on the staithe rows it back. So my aunt and her sweetheart set up a watch, and last night, during the storm, they recognized one of the men who pushed off into the river with it. He is, of late, lodging nearby. They saw him a few days hence with a buxom woman who was loudly arguing with him as he pulled her up the stairs to his room. He has red hair, with the speech of the Welsh archers, my aunt says.”

“Raro breves humiles vidi ruffosque fideles,” Sir Elric whispered.

Elric knew Latin. Kate would never have guessed. She looked to Phillip to translate.

“It is an old Latin saying. ‘Proud are the short, and untrustworthy the red-haired.’” Phillip ducked his head at Elric’s surprised nod.

“You’ve suffered that taunt?” she asked her ward. In the gloom of the day his hair looked brown, but sunlight fired the coppery strands. And he was short and slight, like his sister. Not at all like his Neville father.

Phillip shrugged. “The older boys think I know no Latin.”

She must think of a good retort for him. Perhaps she should confer with Elric.

“So you think the red-haired scoundrel is Griffin?” Kate asked Matt.

“Who else?”

“Can you take us to his room?”

“I can. Hugo, my aunt’s intended, is watching. He’s a big man and he does not mind a scuffle. Works with my cousin on the staithes.”

“What do you want to do?” Elric asked Kate.

Get to Griffin before you do, she thought. Aloud she was more diplomatic. “Prepare the horses. Berend and I will accompany Matt with the hounds to Griffin’s lodging, then meet you outside Micklegate Bar.”

“And if you find the Welshman?” Elric looked as if he’d heard her thought.

“I will ensure that he cannot follow.”

The knight understood. “I will await you outside the walls. Bonne chance.”

Built so close to the edge of the tidal flat that when the river swelled with runoff from the high moors it stood in saturated mud, the house leaned into its neighbor, the base of the steps rotting.

A short, stocky man emerged from the shadow of the house beside it, nodding to Matt, who introduced him as Hugo, his aunt Alice’s intended. He eyed something on Kate’s chest, and she realized that she had folded back one side of her summer cloak, revealing the bow and quiver beneath.

Covering the weapons as best she could – there was no need to flaunt the fact that she was armed, not with the city so tense – she thanked him for watching the house and asked if he had seen the Welshman this morning.

“I have. He returned early but left again almost at once, looking round as he walked off, as if he felt me watching him. I kept well to the shadows.”

“Did he use the boat last night?”

“Aye. In the storm, can you believe it? I almost did not watch, thinking no one would take such risk.”

“You did not confront him?”

“Didn’t like the looks of him. I’ve seen what happens to those who take on the armed men from the camp. Now we have a description of him, we were going to report it. Let the sheriffs deal with him.”

Kate described Werner and asked whether Hugo had ever seen him at the house, or in Griffin’s company.

“The first time, when he talked to the landlady about the room, he did have another with him. It might have been this man. Henna – the landlady – said he did not speak, and the Welshman said it would be just himself staying there, with his woman.”

Griffin – and Nan? So where had Werner been staying? Kate recalled the signs that he’d not washed, perhaps slept rough. But why? What was their scheme? Was Griffin now on the run for his life? And what did Nan, if it was her, have to do with it?

Hugo offered to help search the chamber. Kate said they needed him to stand watch down below, with Matt. If trouble approached, he was to start up the steps – calmly, without raising an alarm. The hounds would hear his approach and warn Kate and Berend.

Berend took the steps slowly, minimizing the telltale creaks, Lille right behind him, then Kate, then Ghent, who would snap at anyone trying to sneak up behind. At the top, the door was barred from the outside, secured with a padlock. Berend put his good ear to the door, shook his head. No sounds. He motioned for Kate to let Lille come forward. Lille sniffed, then pawed at the door. No laid-back ears, but she whimpered, which meant she sensed no immediate trouble, but something was not right. Kate let Ghent come up beside Lille, holding them ready to enter the chamber. Berend crouched down, picked the lock with a wire, then eased the bar out, setting it aside. He pressed his ear to the door again, listening, then, nodding to Kate, he rose and eased it open.

A thump and a woman’s muffled cry.

The room was dark. No windows. Kate cursed herself for not thinking to bring a lantern. Berend identified himself and his companions. Kate released the hounds’ leads so that they might move into the windowless room, guiding Berend to the source of the sound. Ghent made a soft sound of recognition.

“I’m removing the rag over your mouth now.” Berend spoke in a soft, calming tone. “Quiet, I pray you. I know you will want to scream out all your anger, but I do not advise it. We want to take you away from here without raising an alarm, eh?”

“Bless you,” Nan’s voice cracked.

“I’ll cut the ropes now and carry you out,” said Berend. “You will want to rub your wrists and ankles when they are free, but wait if you can until we clean any abrasions and bandage them.”

“Who did this to you?” Kate asked.

“The Welsh traitor,” Nan croaked. “Griffin.” Nan’s voice was weak, though not her spirit.

“Traitor? Traitor to whom?”

“Dame Eleanor, and all of us. Can’t talk. So dry.”

“You will have water soon. And food,” Kate assured her.

Berend scooped Nan up. “Put your arms round my neck if you can.”

“Only take me from this place,” Nan whimpered.

Kate withdrew to the landing with the hounds. As Berend brought Nan out into the light, Kate saw that she was filthy, her clothes muddied and torn, her hair sprouting a spider’s web and who knew what else. She touched the woman’s back, assuring her that she was safe now. To be trussed up and locked in that windowless room, not knowing if she would die there, alone, unshriven – Kate silently cursed Griffin as she followed Berend down the steps. Ghent descended alongside, as if to support her. She rested her hand on his back, appreciating the bond. “Some things are worse than murder,” she whispered, as if he could understand.

Down on the street, Matt cursed softly. “What has he done?”

“Might your aunt care for Nan until we return?” Kate asked.

He assured her she would. “Poor Nan,” he whispered.

“We’ll do whatever you require, Mistress Clifford,” said Hugo, offering to take Nan from Berend.

“No need,” said Berend. “Lead the way.”

Two doors down and up a short flight of steps, he led them into a large room with a stone fire circle in the center and pallets piled in a corner. Five children rose from their play to stare at the newcomers.

“Alice, we have the care of this poor woman until Mistress Clifford returns for her.” Hugo gave a little bow toward Kate, who introduced herself and Berend. “She needs water,” she said from the doorway, still holding Lille’s and Ghent’s leads. “Her name is Nan. My mother’s maidservant.”

Alice was a small, slender woman, her face beginning to line with age, her dark hair caught up in a kerchief. With a nod, she called, “Kit, water!” One of the children went running to a pail in the corner. “You may entrust her to us, Mistress Clifford.” Alice took the cup from the girl and directed an older boy to drag one of the pallets toward the fire circle. Eyeing Nan as Hugo helped Berend settle her, Alice muttered, “God help us, is that what he was at? Are you injured?” She bent to Nan, helping her sip some of the water.

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

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

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

Three fair heads nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Werner?” Kate asked.

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

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

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

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

“His forearm. I think his right.”

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

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

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

But Nan looked away. “He is dead?”

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

“Dead,” Nan whispered, her breath catching.

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

“Anything to help you catch the bastard.”

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

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

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

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

“Did Griffin see you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If Griffin comes there?”

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

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

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

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

“And them?” the youngest asked.

“Lille and Ghent as well.”

The three dark-haired sprites nodded solemnly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For how long?” Berend wondered.

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

“You are thinking Griffin is an assassin.”

“I begin to think so, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nan is safe and sound,” she said.

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

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

A wary nod.

“Have you seen him this day?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We will do what we must.”

A curt nod. “So be it.”

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

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

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

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

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

For once, she was glad of her Neville connections.