The Service of the Dead

Later, when Marie was dressed and loudly arguing with her brother in the kitchen and Sam was busy shifting more of the firewood from the shed to the hall, Kate took Berend aside to tell him of Sam’s discovery at the guesthouse, and what had happened as he returned home.

Berend’s expression was grim as he took the letter for safekeeping. “If Bale is alive, he will want this. That is a fact.”

“Then hide it well. What of the cloak – is it something Bale would wear?”

“I never knew him to wear fur. He did not pamper himself. I need to see the corpse.”

“I fault myself–”

Berend put a finger to her lips. “We move forward. I have some good news. I paid a visit to Matt early this morning on my way to the baker. Already he is moving about with the aid of a crutch. His injuries were not as dire as we feared.”

That was a bit of good news. This would be a good time to switch him to her household and Sam to the guesthouse. Sam and Seth. “Griselde and Clement will be happy to hear he is doing so well. Does he recall anything about the accident?”

“It happened so quickly he remembers only turning to leap out of the way and falling beneath the oncoming wagon. Sometimes just as he’s falling asleep he glimpses a man behind the wagon. He cannot describe him.”

“Do you think it was Bale?”

“I am merely reporting what he said, not what I think.”

“Has Matt received any unexpected visitors?”

“No, but he’s armed at all times. The memory troubles him.”

“It should.”

Berend tucked the letter in his shirt. “I will hide this well. So Sam will not be going to Beverley. Perhaps I could slip away.”

“I need you here, discovering who William buried, and where.”

“I will think about what we might do.”

Kate turned as a draft hit her. Marie was now alone at the table. “Where is Phillip?”

“He said he had an errand on his way to school.” Marie wrinkled her nose at the roll she had just bitten into. “Soft cheese? Merde.” She tossed it aside, considered her sticky hands, and bent toward Ghent.

Kate rushed forward, grabbing the girl’s wrists. “What did I say I would do the next time I found food in their fur?”

A sulky lower lip. “Pour the chamber pots over my head.”

“I do not make idle threats, Marie. I will do it.”

Squirming. A whispered, “Sorry.”

Church bells. “Time for school. Fetch your boots. I will help you with them.”

Berend winked at the girl as she flounced past him. He was rewarded with a trembling smile. Kate thought to scold him, but to what end? The girl would be angry until it suited her to notice she had landed in a safe, secure, welcoming home. Until then, Kate must be patient. But she would not allow the girl to abuse any member of the household. There were limits.

As they walked, they leaned into the wind, scarves pulled up over their mouths and noses so they might breathe without swallowing blowing snow. Kate kept an eye on Marie, who had insisted on holding the dogs’ leads. How cold it was out on the streets. Where could Alice Hatten have gone? Jennet and Sam both confirmed that the woman had moved away from York several years ago. No one seemed to know where she now lived, though they knew it could not be far, for she had come to York once to see old friends, looking well, even prosperous. That had been over a year ago. People repeated rumors of a rich lover or a business in a nearby town, but they were only ideas without firm details to support them. So Alice’s home in Beverley was a secret. William’s secret? He certainly had known Alice’s whereabouts and was able to communicate with her. What hold did he have over her? She had been a young and innocent maidservant in his house, and he had seduced her. When his wife Isabella noticed that Alice was with child, William had meekly bowed his head and done nothing to protect her. Turned out on the street, she had been taken in by the bawd Joan del Bek. Of course. Pretty and fresh, Alice would bring in business. And now William had put her in the path of danger. Kate stopped in her tracks. What had become of the child? He or she was not in William’s household.

“Dame Katherine?” It was Marie and Phillip’s schoolmaster. She had not even noticed they had arrived at the school in the yard of St. Michael le Belfry on High Petergate. “Is Phillip not with you?” he asked.

“Phillip is not here? He left before us.”

“No, nor was he here yesterday. I sent Marie home with a note. She did not deliver it?”

Marie was already in her place, whispering to two other girls.

“No, she did not.” The little vixen. “Has he had trouble here?”

“Nothing I’m aware of, Dame Katherine. He’s a good student when he cares to be. As is Marie.”