A Murdered Peace

Kate awoke haunted by questions about Berend, doubting all that she had believed they shared. And Margery Kirkby – the tragedy of her husband’s violent death chilled Kate. A man who had risked his life and reputation to broker peace between the warring royal cousins, only to be accused of treason by the victor. How was Margery to prove him innocent? Was he? Was Berend? Kate had so much to lose, so much that she had hoped to build on to secure good lives for her wards.

Her head pounding from last night’s wine and her heart bruised, she dressed quickly, throwing on a warm mantle before stepping out onto the landing. There she paused in awe. Snow blanketed the rooftops, softening them, mirroring the pale clouds that vaguely muted the darkness of the predawn sky, the steeples and chimneys reaching out of the ethereal whiteness, calling on heaven to look down at the beauty. Each limb of the great oak rising up from her back garden was outlined in white and lit by the light spilling out from the kitchen window and doorway down below. Even the sounds of the carts on the cobbles were muffled by the snow.

Another time, the quiet scene would bring her great peace, but not today.

She reminded herself of her morning’s mission, telling her partner and former neighbor Thomas Holme that she had done it, she was free of Simon’s debt. He would be pleased. She was no longer burdened with her brother-in-law as a partner in her husband’s former business; now she would trade in her own right, as Katherine Clifford, femme sole. With her own property, her dower, and her inheritance from the Clifford estate in Northumbria plus the gift of her uncle Richard’s house and horses, she had established her guesthouse – a business her clients protected with silence for the sake of their own reputations. She had also formed a small trading concern with her wealthy friend, the widow Drusilla Seaton, buying materials for silk purses and other small items to be made by Jennet and one of her mother’s beguines, both skilled sempsters. Simon’s former partner had already expressed interest in partnering with them on a shipment. With those prospects and the rents on her houses, Kate might be quite comfortable. Might be.

A door opened behind her, the girls tumbling out of their bedchamber. They were arm in arm, friends again.

“Ask Dame Katherine for something to help you sleep,” Marie was saying. “Oh. Dame Katherine–”

Crouching down to look into Petra’s eyes, Kate saw the telltale signs of weeping. She stroked the girl’s dark curls, gently lifted her chin. “The nightmares again, my love?”

A solemn nod. “The monster crowned with worms came down the crowded streets wielding a great sword as he cut off people’s heads.”

“Crowned with worms?” Kevin whispered. “Do you speak of King Henry?”

Kate had heard him climbing the steps, recognizing his gait. She glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

“At Henry of Lancaster’s coronation it is said that when the Archbishop of Canterbury removed the cap the king was wearing those around him gasped, for his head was raw with sores and crawling with lice.”

“That was my first dream.” Petra’s voice shook. “Is the king beheading people? Is Berend going to lose his head?”

Kate took a breath to calm herself. “Why do you say Berend?”

“He is in danger. My dreams show him running, hiding.”

“No!” Marie whimpered.

Kissing her niece’s forehead, then her ward’s, Kate tried to calm them. “Berend is an experienced soldier. He knows how to protect himself. Better to pray for his safety than to believe bad dreams, eh?” She looked from Marie’s wide blue eyes to Petra’s deep-set brown ones, eliciting nods. Another kiss each, smoothing their hair, pressing their hands. “Now go out to the kitchen. Jennet will have risen early to stoke the fire. Warm yourselves.”

As Kate rose, she motioned for Kevin to stay. When the girls had clomped down the steps and she saw them crossing the yard, Kate turned to her companion. Kevin exuded solidity with his strong upper body, muscular legs, heavy brows, and abundant dark hair framing his strong-jawed face. He met her eyes with a solemn expression.

“Your captain tells me you’ve said nothing to him about Berend’s disappearance,” said Kate. “Nor have your fellows.”

A nod. “The four of us have a pact.”

“Bless you. I don’t know how I deserve such loyalty.”

“You have given me back my life, Dame Katherine, and a family. I will not be a stranger to the children. The three of them–” He cleared his throat, gave her a sad smile. “The girls sang for me last night. Two angels.”

She touched his cheek. “They love you. Rest assured you are always welcome in my home.”

He bowed, blushing. “But Sir Elric knows much.”

“Bess Merchet?”

“I don’t believe she has yet decided how much to trust him.”

“Yet he is lodging there in the hope she will be of use.”

“Yes. But he has other sources.”

“Has he told you what he learned about Berend? His property?”