A Twisted Vengeance

Deep breath, one last muttered curse. Then he faced her. “You were right to suspect he was helping Nan move through the city at night when he had the watch. But he believed she was caring for her mother. He swears he knew nothing of a lover.”

“Does he know what sort of man Robin is?”

Griffin shook his head. “I didn’t ask. I thought we would ask Nan–”

“Nan is gone.”

“What? I failed with her as well? Bloody worthless–” He turned on his heels, storming into the kitchen, cursing at Severen.

The injured watchman stumbled out holding his crotch, blinking at the soft dawn light.

“Go piss over there.” Kate pointed to the midden as she handed him his lantern, then called to Lille and Ghent and went to lean against the hedgerow gate, struggling to set aside the emotions that clouded her thoughts.

Breathing deep, she trained her gaze up into the arching branches of the plane tree, its broad trunk almost touching the wall of the kitchen. It provided refreshing, dappled shade on summer days. Kate imagined Agnes Dell standing in the garden, dreaming of raising a brood of children who would tumble about beneath the strong limbs of this great tree. She wondered whether Agnes had been happy with Leonard Dell, what had driven her to become John Paris’s mistress. Perhaps the lack of children, perhaps loneliness with Leonard so often away. On his death, had Agnes been disappointed to discover her husband’s secrets, as had Kate? She straightened as Griffin stepped out from the kitchen.

Shoulders hunched, his face pale, the man looked beaten. “You must think me the greatest fool.”

Perhaps not the greatest, she thought, but he’d certainly no mind for guard duty. What had Ulrich seen in him? “Your mistake was lying down and covering yourself. I doubt Nan will come to harm. It’s dawn, and she seems to know the watchmen. Go now, see the body. Severen can take himself home.”

Once both men were gone, Kate returned to the kitchen, pouring water from a pitcher into a wide bowl, setting it on a bench for the hounds. She availed herself of a small bowl of ale from the jug in the cupboard, taking a seat on the bench Severen had vacated. She sat there a long while, going over all that had happened, searching for a pattern. Nan and Robin – who was he? Might the two be connected with Hans, and the unliveried soldiers encamped at Toft Green? She sat there long enough that she witnessed the three beguines depart for morning mass across Castlegate and Rose come out to the kitchen to fetch ale for her mistress.

“Shall I fold up your blankets, Dame Katherine?”

“Yes. If you would put them by the door, I will fetch them later.”

Kate almost rose to follow her back to the main house. This might be the time to prepare her mother, tell her about Hans before the sheriffs’ sergeants came sniffing around. If they could be bothered. Too often they simply called for the coroner to record the death and let it be. A servant, with no family in York, who would care? But she did not go to her mother. Instead she sat a while longer, until she heard Berend moving about in the garden across the hedge. She was about to go break her fast with him when she noticed Lille and Ghent sitting up, ears pricked. Now she heard it – voices in the alleyway, men’s voices. Signaling the dogs to stay and be still, Kate moved back into the shadows where she might watch undetected, knife at the ready.

Two Dominican friars stepped into the garden, one, slightly stooped, keeping a grip on the other’s forearm. As they moved closer, the white gowns beneath their black mantles caught the light, as did the milkiness of the stooped one’s eyes. Aged, dependent on the younger to guide his steps. Kate did not know them, but the younger knew which entrance to use, moving straight to the hall door. He rapped on it, waited, then rapped again. Rose greeted them respectfully, explaining that the sisters were at mass and her mistress was just dressing.

“We come unannounced, I know,” said the elder friar, “but Dame Eleanor will wish to see us.”

The maidservant bowed them in.

Two friars, unannounced. Dominicans. Their friary stood beside Toft Green, near the crowded military encampment. They might know something of use. Kate was deciding whether to follow them into the hall and introduce herself when Sister Brigida came down the alleyway.

“Benedicite,” she called out to someone invisible to Kate who must be standing at the hedgerow gate. “Clara and Dina stayed to talk with Magistra Matilda after morning mass, but I excused myself as soon as I might do so without offending the good woman. Are the girls ready for their lessons?”

“They have just tumbled into the kitchen,” Jennet responded. “You need not have hurried.”

Kate replenished the hounds’ empty water bowl and stepped out into the garden, joining the two at the gate.

Jennet caught something in Kate’s expression with one glance, giving her a questioning look. Kate shook her head. Not now.