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.
“You have one foot out the door before we even begin, yet it was you who wished to speak to me.”
“I did wish to talk. At my home.”
She stifled a retort. “Come, have a seat by the fire. Berend has brought us brandywine.” She gestured to a high-backed chair. “I pray you, sit, cousin.”
Apparently mollified by her courtesy, the foolish man, William smiled as he removed his cloak and draped it across the back of the chair. Beneath he wore velvet and silk. “And you, Katherine?” He reached for the other high-backed chair.
She pulled up a backless stool. “I prefer this.” For freedom of movement – she imagined lunging for him of a sudden and strangling him. But of course she would not do that. At least she did not intend to do so. She draped the intruder’s cloak on a bench within easy reach, then signaled Lille and Ghent to either side of her cousin. It was an arrangement her father had taught her, a dog sitting so close on either side that the person found it difficult to move. And the dogs would shift to restrict his movement if he tried to rise. She found it satisfying to make use of their affection for him.
Berend set a small table at Kate’s side, poured the brandywine, handed a goblet to William, one to Kate, and then moved to stand behind their guest. Now her cousin was surrounded.
“I presume you want to hear what I learned about Alice Hatten, how her body was found floating in the King’s Fishpond, how she was murdered?” said Kate.
William’s smile dimmed. “How quickly you come to the point.”
“Is that not what you wished?”
Her cousin glanced back at Berend with a little frown. He had never trusted her cook. “Roger told me you were at the Sharp house last night, where Alice was taken.”
“Yes. I happened to have business with Jocasta, but when I arrived I learned of her sad mission.”
As on the morning in the guesthouse, William could not focus on any one thing but kept looking this way and that, restive, fearful, clearly uneasy. “I do not know what happened, Katherine. I never would have asked Alice–”
She waved him silent. “I do not care to hear your excuses, cousin. I want facts.”
“I thought you – you want facts from me? How would I know? Do you think I killed her, Katherine? Do you accuse me of drowning Alice? I loved her.”
“Did you?” She shrugged. “Then it was a timorous love. You could not bring yourself to defend her against your wife’s angry dismissal.”
“I grant you that. But I could never take Alice’s life.”
“I know that, William. I am not accusing you. But you are responsible for putting Alice in danger.”
“I had no way of knowing she would be in danger.” He gave her a look that suggested he had put the tragedy behind him, and so should she.
His smugness put her on the offensive. She wanted to shake him, wake him to the suffering he had caused. She took a deep breath, and then, in a quiet voice, described Alice’s mutilation, her broken jaw, her bruised face. “Can you imagine the pain of having your jaw broken as someone forces open your mouth, William?” He squirmed. Good. “You see, her assailant needed to do that in order to use the scissors or the sharp knife to cut out her tongue.” She paused to let that image sink in. “How do you think he managed that? Did he pull on her tongue to draw it out as far as possible – she would gag I should think, and then – one cut? Or several? Do you think she heard her torturer cursing with the effort? Or had she already, mercifully, fainted with the pain and the fear?”
“There is a darkness to you sometimes, cousin… ” William growled and tried to rise as an answering low rumble came from the dogs’ throats. They leaned in, and Berend put a hand on William’s shoulder to stay him.
Seeing the agony in her cousin’s eyes, Kate relented. “I pray you, sit. I have had a long, trying day, wakened early by Dean Richard’s servant.”
William shrugged Berend off and resettled. Lille and Ghent relaxed. “I had heard that young Phillip found the stonemason in the minster,” he said. “How is the lad?”
“Heartbroken. And weighed down by guilt that he could not cut him down in time. He admired Connor.”
“I am sorry for the lad. He has suffered so much loss. On the street they are saying the stonemason murdered Alice, then took his own life. Might it be true?”
“Knowing what you know, how can you ask that, William?”
“Passion can twist into hate.” He shrugged, but he looked embarrassed, averting his eyes while he took a long drink. He clutched the goblet with both hands as if he feared his hands would tremble.
“Three deaths, William. I need your help to catch the murderer. You can start by telling me who the dead man was, why he was there, and what Alice and Connor had to do with him.”
“Connor?”
“Do not try my patience, cousin. The stonemason murdered this morning. He was expected to join Alice at the guesthouse that night.”
“Murdered? I did not realize he had been murdered.”
“My uncle the dean rightly advised we keep that quiet so we might catch the murderer.”
“Hence the rumor. But of course she would have…” William ran a gloved hand down his face. “I gave her no time to let him know,” he whispered, as if to himself.
“Go on.”
“Perhaps it is still best I tell you as little as possible–”
“No, William. I need to know all that you know, or guess, if you want to help catch Alice’s murderer.” She waited to see whether she needed to remind him that he actually had no choice, that she could ruin him with one visit to Isabella. It need not even be a visit. She could greet her at market and whisper the name Drusilla Seaton. She had no doubt Isabella would jump to the correct conclusion. She found it difficult to trust. She had brought so much to the marriage. Her father’s elegant house, his money, his influence. Even his enemies? That was a possibility Kate had not considered. “Have John Gisburne’s enemies become your enemies, William?”
“It is a long story, Katherine.”
“Then it is best to begin.”
“Perhaps tomorrow. My engagement–”
“Alice bled to death, William. In agony from her jaw, then the cutting of the tongue, she bled to death in the presence of her executioner. Or alone. Perhaps he tossed her on the floor, or the ground, and left her to die. In the dark, alone, unshriven. Then he returned to bundle her up and carry her to the pond, tossing her in like a butchered animal. Imagine that, William. I want you to appreciate how her life ended.”
The bastards threatened to do that to you, Geoff said in her head. That was why–
Not now, she warned him.
“I did not mean for this to happen.” William’s voice broke.
“You put it in motion, as you did Alice’s earlier humiliation. For her sake I will not make it easy for you to forget that.”
“Why do you care so?”
Maud. It is Maud you are avenging, Geoff guessed.
“I cannot believe you need to ask. Is she any less precious in the eyes of God because she is not wealthy?”
William winced. “When did he – they – whoever did this – when did they take her?” he asked.
“Phillip saw her with Connor the morning after the murder in the guesthouse. And then it seems he was searching for her until he heard that she had been found.”
“How frightened she must have been.”
“Yes. A cruel death. And for what, William? What did she die for?”
William’s shoulders drooped in resignation. “Might I at least send my servant–” The young man who had accompanied William had been sent out to the kitchen.