A Twisted Vengeance
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: A Kate Clifford Mystery #2
- Год: 2017
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus Books
- ISBN: 9781681774756
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «A Twisted Vengeance». Краткое содержание книги:
As the fourteenth century comes to a close, York seethes on the brink of civil war – and young widow Kate Clifford, struggling to keep her businesses afloat, realizes that her mother is harboring a dangerous secret…
1399. York is preparing for civil war, teeming with knights and their armed retainers summoned for the city’s defense. Henry of Lancaster is rumored to have landed on the northeast coast of England, not so far from York, intent on reclaiming his inheritance – an inheritance which his cousin, King Richard, has declared forfeit.
With the city unsettled and rife with rumors, Eleanor Clifford’s abrupt return to York upon the mysterious death of her husband in Strasbourg is met with suspicion in the city. Her daughter Kate is determined to keep her distance, but it will not be easy – Eleanor has settled next door with the intention of establishing a house of beguines, or poor sisters. When one of the beguines is set upon in the night by an intruder, Kate knows that for the sake of her own reputation and the safety of her young wards she must investigate.
From the first, Eleanor is clearly frightened yet maintains a stubborn silence. The brutal murder of one of Eleanor’s servants leads Kate to suspect that her mother’s troubles have followed her from Strasbourg. Is she secretly involved in the political upheaval? When one of her wards is frightened by a too-curious stranger, Kate is desperate to draw her mother out of her silence before tragedy strikes her own household.
The guild master attempted to move on from what he clearly considered unnecessary chatter, reminding the guild members that he’d summoned them in order to discuss tactics for defense. Regardless of whether or not one welcomed Henry of Lancaster’s return, civil war was bad news for merchants, dangerous for both land and sea commerce, potentially destroying long-held trade agreements, indeed all manner of treaties. If the conflict resolved quickly, it would be a mere inconvenience. But it was anyone’s guess how King Richard would respond, his changeable moods and emotional outbursts impossible to predict. Experience had taught them to step warily with the king’s representatives. Many in the crowd would find any slowdown in trade particularly difficult to endure because of heavy fines levied on select guild members in recent years; King Richard’s tax collectors coyly referred to them as loans, but they were plainly punitive measures for those merchants targeted for their support of the barons critical of the king. Considering the circumstances, Kate regarded the king’s recent levies as poorly timed now that he needed the support of the realm against the returning exile.
The meeting dragged on, everyone with any opinion whatsoever determined to have his say. Though they had begun in the cool of early morning, the sun had now risen over the rooftops and the hall grew hot enough to ripen the crowd, who had dressed to impress rather than accommodate the July heat. They grew restless and querulous. Kate herself fought drowsiness, her mind wandering back to the morning’s events and her ever-growing list of questions.
“Nonsense,” Holme muttered, pulling Kate’s mind back to the guildhall.
One of the younger guild members was defending his theory that King Richard had not actually set sail for Ireland but was using the story to lure Henry of Lancaster into a trap. His pronouncement was greeted by shrugs, shakes of the head, raised brows, whispers. A few wondered aloud whether “the lad had lost his wits.”
Kate considered the idea. It would be a clever move. Subtle. Too subtle for the king? The consensus seemed to be that King Richard did not listen to others, that he was far too confident, believing that God protected the anointed sovereign from all who would challenge his right to rule.
Was that Duke Henry’s intention? To remove his cousin and be crowned King Henry in his stead? If anyone might succeed in such an effort, it would be him. The Lancastrian inheritance, when added to his wealth as Duke of Hereford, would make him the most powerful baron by far – that is, if he could wrest those lands and coffers back from the hands of the king’s favorites. It all depended on how many stewards and retainers had shifted their loyalty from Lancaster to the king.
The present discussion predictably fell apart as soon as the guild master broached the subject of actively helping to arm and defend the city. Few members of the merchant guild had ever ridden to war, and their experience with weaponry was limited to hunting or defending themselves in dark alleyways. Kate occasionally joined them on St. George’s Field to practice at the butts and knew how few of their arrows ever hit the mark. The city’s defense was quickly deemed the business of the sheriffs and the knights and esquires already summoned, and the discussion dissolved into a despairing account of how many able bodies the king had taken with him to Ireland – or wherever he lay in wait for his cousin. And the influx of armed strangers into the city, men no one might personally vouch for. If they caused trouble, to whom did the citizens take their complaint?
“It is our misfortune that Duke Henry’s power lies in the north,” Thomas Holme grumbled as he and Kate stepped out into the bright July morning. “We will bear the brunt of this, while our London colleagues will hardly be inconvenienced.”
Kate agreed and silently cursed her luck. She was so close to digging out from beneath Simon’s heavy debts – a few more shiploads of precious spices, added to a lease agreement her cousin William Frost was negotiating for her on the family property she had inherited in Northumberland, and she would be clear of that burden. But if her ships were seized, or if William’s lawyer met trouble on the road north and failed to complete the negotiations, the liberation she so yearned for would be delayed.
“There are rumors that Duke Henry is already in Knaresborough, and he’s making promises that only a king has the power to keep. What of that?” a man said to his companion as he passed. His companion hushed him.
Knaresborough again. “Have you heard that rumor, Thomas?” When he feigned confusion, she repeated what she’d just overheard.
“Juicy gossip, that is all it is. Meant to impress his companion.”
That is not how it had seemed in the guildhall when his companions had whispered among themselves at mention of Knaresborough. “Perhaps it is time to move our business south, eh?” she teased, patting Thomas’s arm. She took care to appear confident and at ease, even with her partners. Few knew the enormity of the debt she’d discovered on Simon’s death, and she meant to keep it secret.
“Trading through London, eh? I pray it does not come to that.”
She tried a different tactic. Thomas had a troubled history with King Richard; a member of Parliament when it moved against the king years ago, he had been pardoned, yet the king retaliated still with fines and the searching of Thomas’s ships. “We might all be better off to welcome Duke Henry, truth be told.”
Thomas grunted. “I might agree but that I fear what fate would befall our king if Duke Henry takes the crown. I do not wish him dead, merely chastised. A near victory that frightens him into a more reasonable sovereignty. Ah, look – in the shade of the tree outside the gate.” He motioned with his head. “Your knight awaits you, Katherine.”
Just a trick to change the subject? She shaded her eyes against the glare of the mid-morning sun. No, it was true, Sir Elric stood just outside the gate, his eyes on the departing throng. Sir Elric was captain of the company of retainers stationed at Sheriff Hutton Castle, one of the properties of Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmoreland. It lay north of York in the Forest of Galtres; the earl used it as a base from which to keep an eye on York and the temper of the citizens. The earl had set Sir Elric on Kate for two reasons – to engage her as a spy among the York merchants, and to retrieve certain letters he believed to be in her possession, letters incriminating him as supporting both King Richard and Henry of Lancaster, a double deceit. Ralph Neville called on her as kin – he was the patriarch of her late husband’s family. Regarding the spying, she obliged him, though only so far, careful what she shared about her fellow merchants. But as for the letters, she had never admitted to possessing them. A lie of omission. They had fallen into her possession as a result of his treasonous manipulations, and should he ever dare threaten her or her family, she would use them to ruin him. “My knight. Hardly!”
Thomas chuckled. “My wife envies you his attentions. She tells me that not only is Sir Elric most pleasing to the eye, but as he is one of Ralph Neville’s favorite retainers, he will go far – even farther if the Earl of Westmoreland chooses the right side in this conflict. And as you are the widow of a Neville …”
“God’s blood, she has played out the wooing all the way to my becoming a lady?” Kate laughed. “She would be disappointed to hear our conversations. We are swordsmen on the field, dancing round each other, waiting to see who attacks first. A mutual distrust.”
“I’ve no doubt. But she believes the king holds court like Arthur of old, and that every knight is noble and pure.” He bent over to stroke Ghent’s proud head. Thomas had a great affection for the wolfhounds. But at the moment the petting was a ruse to lean close and whisper, “Look how Sir Elric studies the crowd. I pray he is not after information about your trading partners. Or your customers.” Thomas was a regular client at Kate’s guesthouse on High Petergate.