A Twisted Vengeance
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: A Kate Clifford Mystery #2
- Год: 2017
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus Books
- ISBN: 9781681774756
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «A Twisted Vengeance». Краткое содержание книги:
As the fourteenth century comes to a close, York seethes on the brink of civil war – and young widow Kate Clifford, struggling to keep her businesses afloat, realizes that her mother is harboring a dangerous secret…
1399. York is preparing for civil war, teeming with knights and their armed retainers summoned for the city’s defense. Henry of Lancaster is rumored to have landed on the northeast coast of England, not so far from York, intent on reclaiming his inheritance – an inheritance which his cousin, King Richard, has declared forfeit.
With the city unsettled and rife with rumors, Eleanor Clifford’s abrupt return to York upon the mysterious death of her husband in Strasbourg is met with suspicion in the city. Her daughter Kate is determined to keep her distance, but it will not be easy – Eleanor has settled next door with the intention of establishing a house of beguines, or poor sisters. When one of the beguines is set upon in the night by an intruder, Kate knows that for the sake of her own reputation and the safety of her young wards she must investigate.
From the first, Eleanor is clearly frightened yet maintains a stubborn silence. The brutal murder of one of Eleanor’s servants leads Kate to suspect that her mother’s troubles have followed her from Strasbourg. Is she secretly involved in the political upheaval? When one of her wards is frightened by a too-curious stranger, Kate is desperate to draw her mother out of her silence before tragedy strikes her own household.
“The guild master read out the orders from the Duke of York, listened to members’ concerns, and then made a modest attempt to organize help toward those here to defend the city against Henry of Lancaster. The ease with which he withdrew the proposal was telling. All the while he watched the row of aldermen. I know, I sat at the end of it.”
“With your partner, Thomas Holme?” asked the dean.
She nodded.
“And has he become secretive as well?” the archbishop asked.
He had. And perhaps not only because of the political conflict but also because he regretted hiring Hans and Werner.
They are challenging you, Kate, Geoff whispered in her head. Even our uncle, who has been your ally in the past.
No one trusts anyone at present, Geoff. Now quiet. I must be sharp.
Kate remained silent.
“And was your cousin William Frost in attendance?” asked the archbishop.
Pointed questions might mean they knew something. “He is not a guild member, Your Grace,” she said. “Do you ask because of his wife’s connection to Friar Adam?”
It was her uncle who responded to the question. “Two violent incidents connected to Dame Eleanor’s household – past or present – in as many nights, Katherine. And, coming in the midst of the threat to the peace of the realm, my inclination is to suspect everything, everyone. It is all one dangerous knot, and we must tease out the threads, discover how they are intertwined.”
“I do not know that both incidents are connected, Uncle. The city is teeming with restless soldiers. That is why I need information.”
“You spoke of conflict among the merchants, Dame Katherine.” Scrope nodded to the dean. “We have been discussing that very issue, have we not, Richard? It is time to share what we have heard.”
The dean frowned at the archbishop as if questioning his judgment, but Scrope merely motioned for him to speak.
The dean cleared his throat. “William Frost and his colleagues have sent a messenger to Duke Henry at Knaresborough carrying a sum of money to assist him in his efforts to reclaim his inheritance.” Her uncle’s face was now a study in quiet. Kate guessed that he was as yet unsure with whom his own loyalty lay. “In their message they said nothing of Henry’s shifting intention – to take the crown from his cousin and place it on his own noble head. But such have been the reports.”
“The promises he is making only a king has the power to fulfill,” she said.
Scrope sat up. “You heard that at the meeting?”
“I did, Your Grace.”
“Hm. Yes, it does appear that he has been persuaded by the Lancastrian forces to reach higher than he had set out to do.”
“Or than he had dared admit even to himself,” the dean said softly. “It appears that we’ve no need to fortify the city. The Lancastrian army is headed westward.”
God be thanked! Her mood lifted. For a moment. “Who will tell the men gathered on Toft Green, hungry for a fight?” Kate asked. Which reminded her of the question she’d meant to ask her uncle. “Sir Alan Bennet. How did he approach you about leasing my house, Uncle?” He’d asked about the abbey, had his men watching Elric.
“How?” He bowed his head as if to hide his reaction, allow himself a moment to craft his response. A shrug, a slight frown. “I told you. He asked about lodgings, I thought of your empty house for lease. Why? Is he unsatisfactory?”
“I am not sure. What do you know about him?”
“I know little, to be honest. A mutual friend provided him with a letter of introduction. Staunch king’s man. Should I have a word with him?”
Kate shook her head. “No. I hoped for some further background, that is all. Duke Henry’s heightened ambition – is it more than gossip? How are people receiving it?”
“I do not believe it is widely known yet,” said the dean. “But Frost’s friends sitting together at the meeting today, and joining him afterwards – that would suggest they fear the word has spread.”
“How did you know that William joined Holme and the others?” Kate asked.
The archbishop smiled. “You miss nothing, Dame Katherine. My secretary passed them near the council offices on Ouse Bridge.”
So they had moved on to a meeting of the council. Kate stared at the floor, digesting all she had heard, wondering whether Hans died because he worked for Thomas Holme, one of her cousin’s associates, not because he had come to York in her mother’s party. But why had Isabella sent Friar Adam sniffing around her mother’s household?
Scrope was nodding and speaking. Kate forced herself back to the room. “We have an agreement. In exchange, you will provide an account to us of all you learn concerning the events in your mother’s and your neighbor’s household.”
Your neighbors to either side … Geoff whispered.
I know.
“What do you know of your mother’s late husband, Ulrich Smit?” her uncle asked.
Kate stared at him for a moment, the question was so unexpected. “Ulrich? Very little, except what he told us when he was our guest in Northumberland. Mother has said nothing about him since her return.”
“Where are her loyalties – with the king or with the duke?” asked the archbishop.
Ulrich. Hans. The beguines. Something they brought with them? Or her mother brought with her? Something connected to the conflict between the royal cousins? Now that was a nasty thought, though Kate could not imagine what the connection might be. “We have not spoken of it, Your Grace.”
“If you should have such a conversation, I wish to hear about it,” said Scrope, softening the demand with a warm smile. “Forgive me. I hear myself lacking all courtesy. That is not my intention.”
Kate inclined her head toward him in acceptance of his odd apology.
“I do not know how long I will be in York,” he continued. “So we must rely on trusted messengers. Who shall be our go-between here, Clifford? Your secretary, Alf?”
“Alf? Your Grace, I keep him quite busy …”
“I will provide the deanery with any news,” said Kate. “I leave it to the dean to pass it on to you. Will that suffice, Your Grace? Uncle?”
The archbishop nodded. Her uncle looked relieved, calmer now. Kate rose to help herself to some pie. As she ate, she listened to the two men discuss the leanings of the Dominican Prior of St. Mary Magdalene and the Benedictine Abbot of St. Mary’s. Prior Norbert had been known to criticize King Richard in his sermons, whereas Abbot Thomas had little to say about the crown or court but was devoted to the archbishop “for some small favors I had it in my power to confer, to the good of the abbey and the poor of the city.” St. Mary’s was one of several abbeys and friaries in the city that fed the poor.
“I should like to speak with Abbot Thomas as soon as may be,” said Kate. “Prior Norbert as well.”
“I shall summon my man from the kitchen and have him write an introduction while we talk,” said Scrope.
The dean rose and opened the door, speaking quietly to the clerk who sat at the ready. When he returned, he was grinning. “I am enjoying the image of Dame Eleanor rounding on Friar Adam, while he sniffs and chuffs.”
“The situation does not incline me to smile,” said Scrope. “Adam is a dangerous one for Dame Eleanor and her beguines. He is of the opinion that Meister Eckhart, the theologian whom the beguines revere, was as much a heretic as their own Marguerite Porete. That Eckhart was a fellow Dominican makes it all the more personal for him. Does he mean to condemn them, make an example of them? In a city armed for war? No, I do not like this at all.”
If publicly condemned, they would be shunned, unable to support themselves. Kate could well imagine the rumors that might arise in a city already awash in suspicion. How would her mother cope with such a crisis? “I know nothing about the teachers the sisters from Strasbourg revere,” she said. “If I might ask, Your Grace, why would you assume my mother’s companions claim Eckhart and Porete as their teachers? Did Magistra Matilda tell you this? She certainly did not share it with me, nor did any of the others.”