The Service of the Dead

Despite her worry, Kate must have slipped into a deep slumber. When a loud knocking on her chamber door wakened her, she was confused for a moment by the tangle of arms, legs, and hair trapping her in the soft feather bed. Ah. Marie.

Matt called through the door that she was summoned by her uncle, Dean Richard. Gently disentangling herself from Marie, Kate slipped out of bed, shivering as her sweaty flesh met the predawn chill of the bedchamber. She wrapped herself in a blanket that had slipped to the floor and opened the door to Matt, who stood on the landing with an oil lamp in hand, leaning heavily on his crutch.

“My uncle the dean summoned me? But it is not yet dawn, is it?”

“No, not yet, but Dean Richard’s secretary waits at the threshold. Lille and Ghent will not let him cross it. I did not know the command for them to stand down. He says you must come as soon as you can. To the minster yard. It is your ward, Phillip. He found the stonemason hanging from the rafters of the chapter house.”

Marie wailed from the bed. “Phillip? My brother is dead?”

“No, Marie. Phillip found – someone in trouble.” Kate nodded to Matt. “I will dress quickly. Do you need help going down?”

“I need the practice.”

“Come, Matt.” Already dressed, Jennet slipped out in front of Kate. “I will go first, and if you need to, use my back to steady yourself.” Over her shoulder she told Kate that she would wake Berend and tell him where they would be.

Pulling on her clothes from the previous day, still heavy with weaponry, Kate was out the door before Marie crawled out of bed. When she reached the hall she found the dogs calmly standing to either side of Matt, keeping a close watch on her uncle’s secretary, Alf, who bent toward the fire, warming his hands.

“Connor? Was the stonemason’s name Connor?” she asked.

Alf straightened and gave Kate a little bow. He was an earnest man, his brows always knit together over his pug nose as if to ensure all that he was reliable. “Yes, that was the name, Mistress Clifford. Can you come?”

“At once. Matt, when Marie comes downstairs, she will be in a fury that we left without her. Do not let her out of your sight. Take her to the kitchen. Berend is good with her. Tell him there will be no school for her today because I cannot trust her not to run off in search of her brother.” She felt for Matt, seeing the anxiety in his dark eyes. “I am sorry to burden you with her, but it cannot be helped.”

“I am here to serve, Dame Katherine. Perhaps I can charm her with my smile.”

He did have a winning smile. One of the reasons Kate had stationed him at the guesthouse rather than her own home was that smile, and the rest of his quite pleasing person. As a young widow, she had quickly registered the danger and kept him across the city. Seeing his smile at this early hour cheered her, but her worry quickly reinstated itself.

“You may find Marie far less susceptible to your winning ways than most females, Matt. I pray you, do not despair. Berend will busy her with something in the kitchen.” Kate called the dogs to her, slipped their leashes through their collars, and nodded to Alf. “Lead the way.” They collected Jennet in the yard.

“What about dressing Marie?”

“She is perfectly capable of dressing herself, Jennet. At least for a morning in the kitchen.”

The snow glistened with a crust of ice that had formed in the night. Kate appreciated the substantial lantern Alf carried. Even so, she stepped with care. They saw few citizens other than a watchman on his rounds, who hailed them to ask if they needed assistance. Kate thanked him and sent him on his way, though she noticed him following them at a distance. A watchman rarely paid for his ale, trading the stories gathered on his watch for drink. Kate did not begrudge him, though she hoped he gave a true account of whatever he witnessed.

Torches and lanterns made pools of light in the snowy yard, casting shadows against the dark mass of the minster and upon the small building that sheltered the stonemasons’ workshop from the weather. As they entered the yard, Kate asked Alf to stop a moment. She needed to compose herself. The minster filled her with unease. Stone should not soar into the heavens; it should be stacked solidly on the earth. She disliked the lifelike statues painted bright colors and adorned in silver gilt, ever watching with their shifty eyes. She hated the feeling of being watched, judged. It was worse at night. She hurried past trying not to look toward it.

Her uncle was pacing at the door of the unfinished east end, casting an eerie shadow on the decorated stone as he moved in and out of the lantern light. Kate focused her eyes on him as she approached. It helped that her uncle caught sight of her and hurried forward to embrace her, kissing her forehead, filling her vision.

“Katherine, God be thanked.”

“Where is Phillip?”

“He is still inside with the body, in the roof of the chapter house. Even after I gave Connor the last rites your ward refused to leave his side. Lady Margery is with him.”

“Lady Margery? Why?”

“Her men alerted her.”

That was no answer, but Kate did not pursue it, concerned about her ward. “Is Phillip hurt?”

“Only his heart. Perhaps his pride.”

“What happened?”

“All I know is that he tried to cut the man down, but could not reach the rope.”

“Of course he could not, he is but a child.” But she knew the frustration he must feel, how he would blame himself. “How did you find out?”

“A scrubwoman came for me, saying Dame Jocasta Sharp had put out the word to watch for Phillip Neville. When she heard a commotion at the stonemason’s shelter, she overheard Phillip’s name. I hurried here fearing the lad was the one hanging.” He wiped his brow. “I thanked God when I saw Phillip. But Connor – from all accounts he was a gifted stonecutter. Clearly he had won your ward’s allegiance.”

“I can stay with the dogs while you go in, Dame Katherine,” Jennet offered.

“No. I would prefer you beside me, noting things.” And keeping her safe. Jennet would strike out at anything that leapt out in the yawning cavern of the minster. “Alf, would you wait with Lille and Ghent, perhaps walk them back and forth? Can you do that? They know you now.”

He nodded. “I am happy to walk them if they will permit me.”

She knelt to tell Lille and Ghent they must wait for her with their new friend. Alf crouched beside her, gently patting their backs.

“I had a dog at home.”

“What was his name?”

“Nosewise.”

“Was he–”

“Oh, yes. Quite a tracker.”

“Lille and Ghent are named for Flemish cities my parents’ friend spoke of as places of wonder.” She rose once she sensed the three were at ease.

Dean Richard picked up a lantern and led the way into the incomplete east end of the minster.

Kate shivered as the door closed behind her. Such immense darkness, only slightly illuminated by her uncle’s lantern. Their footsteps whispered on the stone and tile floors, and faraway voices echoed eerily beneath the massive stone vaulting. She tried to focus on the patterned tiles beneath her feet as her uncle led them past the choir, his light picking out the silver gilt on statues, the shadows seeming alive. It shamed and troubled her to be overwhelmed by fear of marble, stone, and painted plaster – something that no one else counted a threat. Some night she should come sit in the dark and make her peace with it. That is how her father had broken her fear of the cave to which they retreated when the Scots came en masse, burning their barns and stealing their livestock.