The Service of the Dead

Kate apologized for intruding, seeing that Grantham was still at his dinner with his family. But Hugh rose from the table at once, assuring her it was high time he returned to work. His wife Martha asked after Marie, and commented on what a fine young man Phillip was. Her kindness was a welcome distraction from Kate’s troubles.

Hugh continued in the same vein as his wife while leading the way to his office in a separate building behind the house. “I must commend you on your gifted ward. My factor is mightily pleased with him. He says he has never felt so at ease handing over the account books. Very satisfied with young Phillip’s work, very satisfied.”

“It is about Phillip I wished to speak to you, Hugh. And your journeyman Connor. Phillip tells me Connor is often absent, and he worries about having so little instruction. I am determined that he should be accepted as apprentice in the minster stoneyard. He needs some basic instruction, for there are plenty young men with the same dream. If you cannot provide that, I must find another place for him.”

Hugh fussed with a chisel he was using to anchor a stack of parchment. “I am sorry about Connor. It’s the drink, you see. He has no sense of when he has had enough. No doubt that is why he did not come today. I have spoken with him about this problem, and he has expressed remorse, promised to reform. I thought having Phillip depending on him might give him a reason to keep his word. But the devil has him in his grip and will not let go.”

“I am sorry to hear of this. To be frank, it makes me even more determined to find another journeyman for my stepson’s purpose.”

“Not so hasty, Katherine.” Hugh patted her arm. “I don’t overstate the case regarding Phillip’s value to me in keeping the accounts. I don’t want to lose him. What if I were to work with him here, in my workshop, on the carvings I have undertaken to finish? I have promised Sir Ranulf that we will complete his family’s chantry chapel before Easter, so I have taken up the chisel and hammer once more.”

She placed her hand on his, nodding. “That is a generous offer, Hugh. I shall present it to Phillip.”

“Surely he could hope for nothing better than what I offer, to study with a master?”

“No, I cannot imagine so. But Simon’s children would rather be contrary than wise.”

Hugh nodded. “I’ve children of my own. I understand.”

“There is another matter to discuss. I have a guest arriving tomorrow for a fortnight’s stay in the house on High Petergate. She travels with a not-so-small retinue, enough that we have much to prepare. So that we might not disturb you, tonight, you will be entertaining in the smaller chamber.”

“Katherine…”

“It is a lovely room, the bed almost as large and just as elegantly appointed. You are the last of my York customers to stay there until she departs.” She saw his expression soften to know others would be far more inconvenienced. I’ve got him now.

“We shall be quite comfortable, I am sure.”

At sunset, a mere erasing of the slight contrast between the sleet-heavy clouds and the gray sky, Kate and Jennet hastened back across the city along the slushy streets. They hurried to reach Castlegate before the deepening chill froze the slush into dangerous ruts and ridges, the dogs straining at their leads. The two women had worked hard to bring order to the house after the events of the morning, and now, weary in bodies and spirits, they moved along in focused silence.

Kate had left instructions for young Seth, the new manservant eager to win her approval, to tend the fragrant fire in the large bedchamber throughout the night in order to hasten the drying of the scrubbed floor. She wanted no trace of the tragedy lingering to greet Lady Kirkby on the morrow.

Berend welcomed them back with a spicy meat pie and mulled wine. Kate tried to relax beside the crackling fire in the hall hearth, assuring herself that she had done all that she could, though she imbibed slightly more wine than she usually permitted herself. Phillip and Marie tried to trap her into revealing what had so upset Griselde, and she derived some enjoyment from disappointing them. They were even more curious to hear that Jennet was sharing Kate’s bedchamber.

“A lady’s maid often shares her mistress’s bed.” Kate laughed at their protests that she was no lady, though she was not so lighthearted as she pretended. She thought it prudent to have Jennet near in case the dogs woke them in the night, to help her defend her wards. Jennet’s lodging in the small house between Kate’s home and the street felt too far away that evening.

When at last Kate readied for bed, it was with a prayer that she might sleep soundly.

As she closed the shutters against the cold, she noticed that it was snowing again. Big, lazy flakes. But the beauty of a snowy night held far less appeal for Kate than the soft, warm bed. Jennet was already snoring as Kate pulled closed the curtains and slipped beneath the bedclothes, head and all. Soon the warmth drew her down, her body growing heavy, her prayers confused.