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.
“We are merely pointing to a possible danger, Katherine,” the dean said with a warning look.
“If we are to work together, we must be honest with each other, hold nothing back that might be of use,” said Kate. “I need to know who else is providing you with information so that I know who else is interested in what has happened.” The archbishop seemed to be giving her argument some thought when someone knocked, then entered. Scrope’s clerk. “I hope to speak of this later,” Kate said.
“I am afraid I must soon be away. Your choice is the letters or more conversation,” said the archbishop.
Kate considered. “The letters, thank you, Your Grace.”
She sat back to finish the remarkable pie and attempted to engage her uncle with news of the children.
But he rose and began to fuss with a pile of documents on a table by the window, and Kate lapsed into hurt silence.
In the kitchen, Kate found Berend had come to meet her, as agreed. It was a peaceful scene, Berend kneading dough, his arms dusted in flour, while Helen stirred chopped vegetables into a large pot, and Lille and Ghent slept near a door opened onto the garden. The two cooks were discussing various herbs and spices that might improve the broth. When Kate cleared her throat, Helen glanced up with a worried expression.
“You are unscathed?”
“At moments I did not recognize my own uncle, but I found an ally in His Grace.” Kate held up two scrolled letters bearing the seal of the Archbishop of York. “He has written to both Abbot Thomas and Prior Norbert telling them to cooperate with me.”
“What did you give them in exchange?” asked Berend, wiping his hands and arms.
“I will keep them both informed of what we learn as we proceed.”
Berend nodded. “Seems fair enough.”
Helen was beaming. “You have prevailed, dear Katherine. I am so relieved.”
As they walked to the abbey to speak to Abbot Thomas, Kate told Berend all that she had learned. “My uncle knows so little about Sir Alan. Why would he send him to me?”
“As I said before, you might have done much worse. What most troubles me is the prospect of all those soldiers told to pack up and leave with nothing to show for their time here.”
Kate heard the concern in his voice and crossed herself. “Aye. We will do much praying before it is over, I fear. But what to make of my uncle’s comments about the Frost family? They were never fond. He clearly felt his youngest brother might have made a better marriage. But I’ve never heard him speak so harshly about Mother, indeed all the Frost family and those in her company.”
They grew quiet as they approached Bootham Bar. Kate sensed that Berend was on high alert, watching all who looked their way. When for the third time he’d stepped in her path as if to take an arrow for her, she demanded to know what trouble he anticipated. He reminded her of the men who had followed her, speaking of her war dogs.
“I’ve seen no soldiers arriving,” she noted, though gently, moved by his concern.
They were through the gate now, and turning toward the abbey.
Berend paused to look back, studying the crowd. “An ordinary market day, it would seem. Perhaps word has gotten round that the threat of a siege is past? Let’s pray the soldiers choose to move north and west, following the duke. Friend or foe, where he is, there will the battle be.”
9
Thieves and Monsters
Having read the letter, Abbot Thomas glanced up at Kate. “I am advised to give you my complete cooperation.” He did not hesitate but told the novice to fetch Brother Martin from the infirmary. “Forgive our earlier silence, Dame Katherine, but in such times …”
“Of course,” said Kate.
The abbot bent down to offer Lille and Ghent his hand for inspection.
“Such noble creatures, and courteous. So finely trained.” He shook his head as if in wonder, his round face lit by a smile of pure joy. “Bless you for bringing them. They are a benediction in a troubling day.”
Kate took the comment as a sign he wished to say more. Perhaps about the presence of two of Sir Elric’s men outside the gates? “I pray your troubles are not connected to the injured man in your infirmary.”
First Lille, then Ghent sniffed the abbot’s hand and approved his touch. He took a moment to stroke their heads, then sat back with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. “Our troubles are insignificant. Your prayers are better spent on a peaceful solution to the kingdom’s developing crisis. I cannot help but think that our patient’s suffering is connected to that. There is madness in the air. The soldiers, all the weaponry …”
Kate could not argue with that.
Abbot Thomas suddenly turned an ear toward the door. “Brother Martin is here. I will let him explain.”
Berend rose as a tall, fair monk ambled into the room, solemnly bowing to all of them, pausing over the dogs seated between Kate and the abbot. “Mistress Clifford’s magnificent wolfhounds.” He glanced at Kate. “May I touch them?”
“After they have taken your measure, Brother Martin. Too soon and they will not be at ease.”
He bowed to her and took his seat between Berend and the abbot. “Master?”
Thomas handed him the archbishop’s letter. Kate watched as the monk read. He did so quickly, moving his lips, but silent, then sat back with a frown. “I wish you had brought this yesterday, Berend. It might have avoided much pain on the part of the man in the infirmary.”
Kate breathed out, grateful to hear that the man was still there. “There has been trouble?” she asked.
“His friends returned for him in the early evening, saying their captain wished him taken to Sheriff Hutton Castle to be tended by their leech. I protested. Earlier, when I cleaned the pus from the man’s wound, the bleeding had resumed. I had covered it in a paste of comfrey leaf that staunched the flow and gave him some ease, but any movement would disturb it. Of equal concern was his fever, and the chills that required a fire in the brazier and – well, Berend is welcome to come see how we have managed to cover him but keep the weight of the blankets off his wound. Poor man. Kevin is his name. I suspect you already know that he belongs to a group of Westmoreland’s men stationed in the city.”
Kate nodded. Kevin. He was always polite when she encountered him on the street. A cut above the rest, in her mind. “I am sorry to hear it is him,” she said. “So his comrades came for him?”
“Yes. They were determined to move him.” Brother Martin passed a hand over his eyes. “One of them coaxed Kevin in his delirium to attempt to stand, and the wail of anguish startled the comrade so that he let go.” The monk’s face creased in remembrance of the scene. “God be thanked that the strength I gained from training long ago as an archer did not fail me. I caught him and eased him back onto the bed. He clung to me, begging me to keep him here.”
“His comrades complied?”
“Not happily. But I believe their affection for him won out over their fear of their captain’s anger. They withdrew but warned me that I would receive another visit from him.”
“Sir Elric.”
A bow. “He had come earlier in the day–” Martin glanced at his abbot. “It is more appropriate that Master Thomas tell you.”