The Service of the Dead

“I do not believe much slips past Lady Margery, uncle.” But it was good to know her uncle was not at ease with the archbishop. Friction between the dean and chapter of York Minster and the archbishop was to be expected – they presided over the cathedral and its operations, yet it was the seat of the archbishop’s authority. But this was about Scrope’s personal, not his professional, integrity. “What did you learn from the workers?”

“Your serving maid asked them whether the rope would have been out near the platform. Good question. The men said it would have been stored in one of the rooms up there.”

“So the murderer was familiar with much about the minster.”

“Too familiar. The workers were stealing glances at their fellows, worried that the murderer is among them.” He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, shaking his head. “I fear that your trust in Lady Margery might be misguided, and that I have been foolish in supporting her husband. Stealing away as he did has colored his actions in men’s minds. Some call him a traitor to King Richard, others suspect the king has sent him to assassinate Duke Henry.”

“Perhaps I am too close to these tragedies, uncle, but I find it difficult to see them as part of the rift between the royal cousins.”

“Did you feel so about the unrest in the borders where you grew up, Katherine? That, too, was born of the wars begun by our king’s great-great-grandfather.”

“I did. Our feuds grew out of the fields soaked in our family’s blood.”

“And that began with King Edward leading his army into Scotland.”

“Providing the opportunity to resume a feud under cover of war.” Kate rose. “I would like to see Connor’s body before I go comfort Marie. I will return in a while to wake Phillip, so that he might tell us all he knows.”

In late morning Dean Richard had moved Phillip to his own bedroom so that work might resume in the kitchen. In thanks for preparing Connor’s body, the lay sisters from St. Leonard’s Hospital deserved a warm meal.

Now the boy blinked in the soft midafternoon sunlight as Kate opened the shutters. She stood a moment looking out at the minster, watching water coursing out the downspouts. The thaw had begun and the world, so quiet in snow, was loud with water dripping, sloshing in the street. People cursed as their boots sank into the ooze.

Remember the stink of the spring thaw? All that had frozen in the snow, rotting corpses of birds, rats, squirrels, mice. All the dung and piss from the horses and cattle.

A city is worse yet, Geoff. Now go. I need to speak with Phillip.

She sat down at the edge of the bed. “Marie picked out fresh clothes for you. Dean Richard’s serving man will help you dress.”

“I dress myself.”

“Let them fuss over you. They all feel helpless.”

Phillip sat up. She handed him a cup of honeyed milk, his favorite.

“Sleep well?”

“I remember someone carrying me here. But even that did not wake me.” A sigh. “I feel guilty. I should be praying.”

“Self-abuse will not bring back the dead. I know. I have tried it.”

“Your twin?”

“Yes.”

He finished the milk, setting the cup aside and swinging his legs out of the bed. “Soft,” he said as he stepped onto a bearskin.

“My uncle enjoys his comforts.” The walls were hung with hunting tapestries, small tables held pewter lamps and candlesticks, and a bench and a chair were piled with cushions embroidered in jewel colors.

Phillip gazed round the room, but his expression was grim as he turned to Kate. “I know about the murder in the guesthouse. And now Alice Hatten, and Connor.”

God in heaven. “How do you know about the guesthouse?”

“I will explain. But the dean will want to hear as well.”

“Of course. Would you prefer to talk in here, or in his parlor?”

“The parlor. You can call the serving man to come dress me.” He still looked weary.

“Would you eat something first?”

“I can eat while we talk. I mean to sit the vigil.”

Before she closed the door behind her she asked, “Does Marie know of the earlier murder?”

He shook his head. “And she must not, not until the killer is found and put away.”

Kate intended a swifter, more satisfying end, but she simply nodded.