The Service of the Dead
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: A Kate Clifford Mystery #1
- Год: 2016
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus Books
- ISBN: 978-1-68177-175-5
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «The Service of the Dead». Краткое содержание книги:
Expertly recreating the social and political upheavals of late medieval Europe and the increasing power of the wealthy merchant class, acclaimed author Candace Robb introduces a new series starring Kate Clifford, a woman forged on the warring northern marches of fourteenth century England.
Political unrest permeates York at the cusp of the fifteenth century, as warring factions take sides on who should be the rightful king – Richard II or his estranged, powerful cousin in exile, Henry Bolingbroke. Independent minded twenty-year-old Kate Clifford is struggling to dig out from beneath the debt left by her late husband. Determined to find a way to be secure in her own wealth and establish her independence in a male dominated society, Kate turns one of her properties near the minster into a guest house and sets up a business. In a dance of power, she also quietly rents the discreet bedchambers to the wealthy, powerful merchants of York for nights with their mistresses.
But the brutal murder of a mysterious guest and the disappearance of his companion for the evening threatens all that Kate has built. Before others in town hear word of a looming scandal, she must call upon all of her hard-won survival skills to save herself from ruin.
Phillip tried to follow him, but Connor shooed him away. After that Phillip stole away from school when he could. Usually he found Connor in one of the taverns near the Bedern or near Joan del Bek’s bawdy house, where the mason would ask after Alice. No one had seen her. They seemed surprised to hear she had been in the city. After a while he would go back to a tavern and drink.
“For two days all he did was drink and search for her. He pretended to ignore me. I guess he hoped I would give up and leave him be. Yesterday I asked some of the other stoneworkers to come with me, to help me convince him to eat something. We almost succeeded. But then someone came with the news about a body found in the King’s Fishpond, a woman named Alice Hatten. Connor wanted to go to her, to warm her, to save her, and the man told him it was too late, her tongue had been cut out before she was thrown in the pond. She was long dead. Connor started to shout no no no no and throw things.”
Kate was angry that Connor had not seen what he was doing to Phillip, a boy who admired him to such an extent he would do anything to protect him.
“Have some more food?” the dean suggested.
Phillip shook his head. “This morning that man must have come for him, or maybe Connor saw him passing. If I had been quicker–”
“He was not your responsibility, my son,” Richard said.
“Why did he go with him?” Kate wondered aloud. “Why would he?”
“I wish I knew why he left, why he did not wake me.”
The dean poured more wine, watered his own and Phillip’s. Kate set hers aside. “Do you wish to continue, Phillip?”
A nod. “Just as I was cursing myself for assuming they’d headed to the minster, one of the apprentices came with a lantern to light the fire in the stonemasons’ lodge. I saw fresh prints where someone had broken through the frozen crust atop the snow. I had been following them all along. I think I frightened the apprentice, and he let me borrow the lantern so that I would leave. I think I was crying.” Phillip ran his slender fingers through his hair. “Please say nothing of any of this to Marie. I never let her see me cry.”
Kate promised she would repeat none of it to Marie without his permission.
“Once inside the minster I heard raised voices. A long way in, and up above me. I started running. The voices got louder and louder, and then stopped. The silence frightened me and I stumbled and fell. I lost time.”
Kate moved beside Phillip, put her arm round him. He did not push her away.
“Just before the lawyer’s stalls I heard someone running at me, then saw the lantern light, swinging wildly. It confused me. He rushed right into me. I think he meant to. I fell backward, and he ran on. I scrambled for my lantern and started to chase after him. I was angry. Then I remembered Connor. More time lost.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I prayed Connor was just hurt. Or spent from a fight. But I kept thinking of Alice Hatten, what they said happened to her. The door to the steps leading up above the chapter house was open. I climbed up, calling Connor’s name. Up the steps and – he was hanging there, the rope creaking. God help me. The board to stand on had been cast aside. I struggled to get it back onto both trestles. And I still could not reach him. I could not save him.”
“It is far more difficult to cut a man down than it is to hang him,” the dean whispered. “I could not manage it by myself.”
Phillip shrugged out of Kate’s embrace, wiping his eyes. “I want to go to Connor now, Dean Richard.”
“Of course. I will take you to him.” As her uncle rose, he asked Kate to stay. They should talk.
“I will just see whether Helen minds Lille and Ghent being underfoot in her kitchen awhile longer,” said Kate.
It felt good to escape the parlor for a while, to stretch her legs. In the kitchen, the dogs drowsed by the fire, despite the proximity of Richard’s cat, Claws, who napped with one eye open on a stool just above Lille and Ghent.
Helen, Richard’s longtime cook, bustled over to give her a welcoming hug. “Bless you for bringing Lille and Ghent with you. When they are here, Claws stays put, and I have some peace. Most days she’s in everything, and I live in fear the dean’s guests will find her fur in their stew.”
“Perhaps it is time you brought a dog into your household.”
Helen wrinkled her nose. “Your uncle would have the dog in his bedchamber, tracking mud and heaven knows what else onto those beautiful skins on which he likes to walk barefoot.”
And Helen as well, Kate guessed. She had long suspected Helen and Richard were far more to each other than master and cook. She thanked Helen for taking such good care of her hounds and her ward.
“He is a sweet lad, Phillip. Let him bide here awhile and I’ll do my best to fatten him. Perhaps your Berend’s cooking is not to his taste. Some men cook too fancy, eh?”
The suggestion gave Kate pause. Phillip might be safer here than in her home. The deanery was a hive of activity from early morning until late evening. Someone would always be there to watch him. For now, Phillip would be close to Connor, and, after the burial, close to Grantham’s house if he felt ready to return to work. “What a kind suggestion, Helen. I will consult my uncle about the possibility.” Not that Kate believed for a moment that Phillip would prefer Helen’s food over Berend’s. He was simply a light eater. But it would free Kate, Jennet, and Berend to investigate. Only Marie posed a problem, being far more inquisitive than her brother. Might she stay as well?
When Kate returned to her uncle’s parlor she found him pacing the length of the small chamber, from the shuttered window to the prie-dieu that served as a small altar, his expression one of grave concern. She settled in a high-backed chair near the brazier, leaning back to gaze at the dark oak beam above.
“Much to ponder in Phillip’s tale,” said Richard as he handed her a cup. “My best brandywine. A bit of comfort after our harrowing morning.” He sighed as he eased himself down across from her. He was a handsome man, dark hair and brows, light eyes, more gray than blue, with a strong jaw and an air of command. She still wondered about his not naming a proxy to handle his duties at the minster but rather taking up residence for a few months now, going so far as to bring along Helen. As King Richard’s Lord Privy Seal he might be summoned by the king at any moment. Perhaps she should not burden him with her wards.
He leaned forward, interrupting her reverie. “Alice Hatten expected Connor to join her at the guesthouse that night. Did I hear that right?”
“That was my impression, that Connor had stopped at the tavern and arrived late.” Kate paused, wondering whether to continue. Had King Richard sent her uncle to spy on Lady Kirkby? Or to help her? Either way, could she trust him? Nonsense. He had gone out of his way to be kind to Phillip, and to her. She must trust someone. “Arrived to what, I wonder? Was Connor the other man Griselde heard? Did he and Alice witness a murder? Is that why they are both dead? Or do we have it all wrong?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe Connor was a murderer. But what do we truly know?”
The dean shook his head. “If I believed the man to be a murderer I would not give him a Christian burial, eh? But after Connor’s burial we might ask Phillip whether the stonecutter confided any more to him.”
“After he has satisfied what he sees as his duty to his friend.”
“He is an admirable lad.”
“I confess I had not guessed him to be so steadfast in his loyalties.”
“He had not yet been tested. What do you think of the brandywine?”
Kate tasted it. Smooth, warm, soothing. “Quite a luxury. You are well compensated for your duties at court and in the church.”