A Murdered Peace
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: A Kate Clifford Mystery #3
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus Books
- ISBN: 9781681779270
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «A Murdered Peace». Краткое содержание книги:
England still in tumult at the start of the fifteenth century, as Kate Clifford finds herself working to prove the innocence of her longtime confidante.
It is deep winter in York, 1400, the ground frozen, the short days dimmed with the smoke from countless fires, the sun, when it shines, low in the sky. It is rumored that the Epiphany Uprising, meant to relieve the realm of the Henry the usurper and return King Richard to the throne has, instead, spelled his doom. As long as Richard lives, he is a threat to Henry. So, too, the nobles behind the plot. The ringleaders have been caught, some slaughtered as they fled west by folk loyal to Henry, and the king's men now search the towns for survivors.
A perilous time, made worse for Kate Clifford by the disappearance of Berend, her cook and confidante, shortly after Christmas. Her niece saw his departure in a dream – he said he was honor bound to leave. Honor bound – to a former lord? One of the nobles who led the uprising? Is he alive? She is hardly consoled when Berend reappears, wounded, secretive, denying any connection to the uprising, but refusing to explain himself. When he is accused of brutally murdering a spice seller in the city, Kate discovers a chest of jewels in his possession. Some of the jewels belong to her old friend Lady Margery, wanted by the king for her husband’s part in the uprising. For the sake of their long friendship, and the love she and her wards bear for him, Kate wants to believe his innocence. So, too, does Sir Elric. And he has the powerful backing of the Earl of Westmoreland. All she need do is confide in him. If only she trusted her heart.
“Did you perchance glance out the window when the sheriffs’ men arrived at John Paris’s warehouse just now?”
“Is that who they were?” She nodded. “I did. But I am not certain about what I thought I–” she looked up, searching for the English “–witnessed?”
“Yes, that is the word.” Dina had found English difficult at first, but had been rapidly catching up with her companions, Brigida and Clara. “What did you think you witnessed?” Kate asked.
“I saw our friend Berend. He was led away like a–” Dina bit her lip, frowned, brought her hands together as if tied.
“Prisoner?” Kate guessed.
“Yes. Yes. I would worry, but I must be–” Dina shook her head, “in error? He is not in the city, I think?”
Kate silently cursed herself for not realizing the warehouse was somewhere Berend might hide. When they had lived next door to it, he had often taken leftover food to the workers there. They loved him for it and might very well hide him. But they might not think to have a care when Skulker was about.
“Did John Paris witness what happened?”
A nod.
Kate would ruin Paris for giving Berend up to the sheriffs. His infirm wife had died in late autumn, so she would feel no guilt in depriving him of income.
“Berend was away,” she said, “but he returned recently. I believe that you did see him.”
Dina crossed herself, her eyes filling with tears. “Why would they take him? He is a good man.”
“They are mistaken.” Kate would say no more to Sister Dina, who had endured her own ordeal in the summer, the attack in which Kevin had been injured rescuing her. “Was there anyone else with him?”
Dina frowned up at her. “You ask if he was only prisoner?” She nodded. “Only him.”
Kate peered out the window, saw no one outside the Castlegate end of the warehouse, but she did spot John Paris strolling out the back, down Hertergate toward his home. Alone.
Thanking Dina, Kate picked her way back down the steps.
“Was she able to help?” asked Brigida.
“She was. Forgive my interruption. I will leave you to your students.”
“You are always welcome, Dame Katherine.”
The girls whispered good-byes to Lille and Ghent, their voices sad with lost opportunity.
Signaling the dogs, Kate stepped out and went round the side of the warehouse to the rear, then down the alley into Hertergate. John Paris had not stopped at his house, but was still walking in the direction of the river. Heading to the staithes? She slipped the leads from the hounds’ collars and motioned for them to halt Paris, taking her time following. Let his fear of them work to her benefit. For a man as terrified of Lille and Ghent as she knew him to be, it would be an event out of his nightmares to have them appear out of nowhere and crowd close. It should render him eager to tell her anything in exchange for calling them off.
“Foiled, were you?” she said when she reached him. “How much had the liveried men offered you to give Berend over?”
“I– It was not like that! I sent for the sheriffs, not those men.” Paris was shivering and trying to shrink himself into something so tiny Lille and Ghent might forget about him. “I– It was my duty to Thomas Graa, who owns the warehouse. Berend is wanted for the murder of Merek the spice seller. It matters not a whit whether or not you or I believe him guilty. If the sheriffs discovered that I harbored a murderer in Graa’s warehouse, which he entrusts to me, I would be ruined. I sent word to the castle. But Skulker – he brought those other men, the little bastard. I’ve warned him to stay away, and my workers know to keep him out of the warehouse.”
Kate was seething, she’d seen his shoulders slump when he spied Parr and Sawyer, but she needed information. “Where are Skulker and the two men now?”
“Gone. They wanted to go in, search, but I told them the sheriffs’ men had taken everything.”
“Did they?”
“I did not see them take anything. Just Berend. But the two men looked like trouble. Faith, anyone in Skulker’s company is trouble.”
“You did not see where they went?”
“I did not watch.”
“How did you learn Berend was there?” Berend would have known to stay out of sight of Paris, knowing he was untrustworthy.
“Could you call off your dogs?” Paris whined, the sweat darkening the hair sticking out of his hat.
“I will when I believe you have told me all you know. How did you discover that Berend was in your warehouse?”
“I smelled cooked meat, well spiced, when I went into the warehouse after dinner today. A little thing, but I had heard of the search for Berend, and I remember such a scent coming from the kitchen when you lived near. So I waited. I saw him sneaking in the back, and I sent for the sheriffs’ men.”
Clever. She would not have believed it of him. “Was Berend injured?”
“By the constables? I do not believe he was.”
“Before they came?”
Paris began to shake his head but stopped, as if fearing the dogs would take it as a signal. “I caught only a glimpse of him. Enough to recognize him, that is all.”
“So you would not be able to say whether he’d been injured when he returned to the warehouse?”
Another slight shake of his head, eyeing the dogs with terror.
“The men Skulker brought here, had they been here before?”
“I had not seen them before. But my men would be better able to tell you.”
“They are well dressed. Why would you think them trouble?”
“I told you, anyone who would arrive with Skulker …”
“I don’t believe you. I think they’ve come to you before. Shall I tell the sheriffs you are protecting them?”
“Why would the sheriffs care about them?”
“You thought they were trouble,” said Kate. “The sheriffs might agree.”
Paris dropped his head. “They might have come to my home, asked me whether I knew him.”
“Go home,” she said. “I will think what to do about you.”
“What? Dame Katherine! I was only–”
She signaled the hounds to herd him back toward his house.
“I had to raise the hue and cry!” he shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled toward his house.
Once he had slammed the door behind him, Kate called Lille and Ghent back to her, commending them as she led them back to the warehouse. There the workers talked over each other, apologizing, assuring her they had done their best to keep Berend’s presence a secret. One of them offered to show her where Berend had slept. But Lille and Ghent beat them there, prowling round a quiet spot behind stacked barrels, ears perked, as they sniffed at a pack sitting atop a stack of blankets.
Kate recognized Berend’s traveling pack, old, worn leather with bright new buckles Jennet had sewn on for him as a Christmas gift. The girls loved to slip little gifts into it when it sat by the door, awaiting his departure. Blessed Mother, may they have the chance to do that again. Calling Lille and Ghent to her side, Kate opened the pack: a shirt, leggings, a leather vest, a pouch of the salve for his scars, especially his ruined ear, a twist of spices, a small cook pot, wooden spoon, and, wrapped in leather, a good skinning knife. Her breath caught in her throat as she touched these pieces of Berend’s life. The shirt carried his scent. It had been worn. That it was not bloody gave her hope. She closed up the pack, nodded to the blankets.
“Were these Berend’s?” she asked the men, who had followed her.
“No. They’re ours. We let him use ’em,” said one.
She signaled the hounds to rest while she questioned the men. She wanted no distractions. “Have you seen Berend with anyone?”
They had not. “Quiet, he was. For the first day he just slept,” said one. “We kept watch that no one bothered him.”