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.
As Kate reached the hall Lille and Ghent rushed up to her, leads in mouths. She smiled at Matt’s whimsical training. While she bent to attach the leads, the dogs nuzzled her, their rough gray fur warm with their agitation, Ghent gazing up with his soulful eyes, seeking reassurance. Lille danced sideways, her eyes a little wild.
Jennet and Matt began talking at once.
Kate straightened up and raised a hand, silencing them. “Jennet first.”
“I noticed nothing out of place in the yard or the garden.” Jennet wore a man’s linen shirt over leggings, easily donned. “But Lille and Ghent will be far better judges of that.”
“Matt?”
“They rose up as one. I first noticed their heads up, on the alert even before they stood and began to bark. Ghent sidled over to see that I was awake, but he kept his watch on the garden door. I’ve never seen one of them behave so.” Kate had taught Matt since spring to work with Lille and Ghent. Young, eager to prove himself of use, Matt had learned quickly.
“Arm yourself and stay in here,” said Kate. “Petra is awake and knows to keep Marie up above. Come, then.” She gave a gentle tug on the hounds’ leads and led them out into the night garden. Softly, “Lille, Ghent!” She signaled them to track – silently.
Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark as the hounds led her straight toward the hedgerow separating her garden from that behind the house on Hertergate that her mother had leased. Dear Lord, no, not Mother, she prayed.
A futile prayer, Kate’s twin said in her mind, his presence a sure sign of danger.
I know, Geoff, I know. Trouble shimmered in the air about their mother. But of our family, I have only Mother and Petra. I mean to keep them safe.
Petra I understand, but you know better with Mother. And after yesterday’s attack? No thanks for a peace offering?
Kate shrugged him off.
As the dogs continued on to the shut hedge gate, Kate signaled a halt so she might listen. Lille and Ghent sat, heads high, scenting forward to sense what might be across the way.
There was no light in her mother’s house, or the kitchen nearer the hedgerow. With seven women in residence, if anything were wrong, surely one would light a lamp. They would be moving about, calling out to each other. But all was still. Whatever had disturbed Lille and Ghent, Kate saw no sign of anything amiss.
Bending to the hounds, Kate whispered that she understood, the scent was still there, but all was now quiet. She led them away from the hedge and around her own property – the house, the smaller building out on the road, back to her kitchen, the small lodging and the garden shed behind it. When she was satisfied that no one lurked in the shadows, she joined Berend, who stood in the kitchen doorway, barefoot.
“Lille and Ghent are keen to cross through to your mother’s house.” He spoke quietly, as if they might be overheard.
It was true. They sat at her feet on alert, ears pricked, eyes trained on the gate. “I see no disturbance over there,” she whispered. “If someone came to harm in the night, one of them would hear and wake the others. We would see lamps lit, movement. But there is nothing.” She looked back toward the latched gate. “I pray my irritation with Mother does not cloud my judgment.”
“With the influx of armed men to defend the city, we can expect strangers wandering about, folk following the army, hoping for work,” said Berend. “They must find their own lodgings, food. Some help themselves.” He spoke from experience, years in the field, some as a soldier, the latter years as an assassin for hire.
Kate knew he was right about the situation in the city. She watched him now as he walked over to the gate in the hedgerow. Jennet joined him there, peering into the dark, her long braid swinging as she moved her head back and forth, apparently listening. Taking a deep breath, Kate followed, Lille and Ghent moving to surround and protect her.
The hounds were formidable in size – though Kate was a tall woman, the tops of their heads reached her shoulders, and the three moved as one, alert to one another’s slightest shift in direction of speed, divining each other’s intentions. Berend once told Kate, “Often I cannot detect how the hounds see your hand signals – they suddenly change direction, or halt, and I’ve seen nothing, nor have I noticed them watching you.” Kate took pride in that. And comfort. Her father’s master of hounds had praised the twins for their connection with the hounds. He had teased her father, asking how far back in family history a Clifford had wed a shape-shifter.
A few feet from the closed gate, Lille and Ghent halted and pricked their ears. Kate rested her hands on their backs, signaling them to hold still. Light footsteps. Stealthy, pausing, hurrying on, pausing, coming from Hertergate down the alley beside the Martha House. Kate considered moving back out of sight, the brightening predawn light both a gift and a threat. No, best to hold steady. The footsteps continued toward them. She felt the hounds’ muscles tense, noticed Jennet slightly shifting, reaching for the latch, poised to move quickly through the gate. Berend touched Kate’s arm, as if to steady her.
From round the corner of the Martha House a woman appeared. By her slight limp Kate recognized Agnes’s maidservant, Nan, a young woman whose colorful clothing was a topic of dissent in Eleanor’s household. Her mistress had chosen to take vows of humility and chastity, but not Nan. Kate wondered what she had been doing moving about the sleeping city. The young woman paused, glanced down, lifted her skirts, and shook one foot, as if she had stepped in a puddle. But it had not rained for days.
Lille growled.
More slowly now, her steps more furtive, Nan moved through the garden to the kitchen. She paused at the door of the small detached structure, looking back toward the alley, as if checking whether someone followed, then stepped inside. Without opening the door. Why had the door been open? A moment of silence, then Nan pushed open a shutter, moved away. Kate heard the soft sound of a poker stirring the embers. Now a lamp glowed. So a servant’s day began.
Kate eased a little, but the hounds did not.
“Shall I just go peek?” Jennet whispered.
Kate nodded. “The hounds are still on alert.”
Jennet was halfway to the kitchen door when Nan appeared in the garden, holding a lantern. “Sister Dina? God be thanked, I was so worried when I saw – Oh, Jennet. I hoped you were–” Her voice quavered with emotion. “Something has happened. Sister Dina is not in her room and there is blood!”
Jennet placed a hand on Nan’s shoulder as if to steady her. “Start from the beginning. What did you see in the alley?”
Back at the gate, Berend leaned close to Kate to whisper, “Do you see Nan’s shoes in the lantern light?”
She glanced down. “They are wet,” she said.
“Though it has not rained in days.”
“No, it has not.” Kate moved through the gate with Lille and Ghent. “Shine the lantern down on your shoes, Nan.” She offered her arm for support.
Someone called down from a solar window. “Is there trouble?”
“Is Sister Dina up there?” Jennet called back.
Murmurings, the sound of movement.
“God help me, I thought it was water,” Nan whispered, covering her mouth as she lifted a foot, saw the blood.
“You did not smell it?”
Nan shook her head. “I do now.”
Kate nodded, then left her, letting Lille and Ghent lead her out to the alleyway, where they stopped by a pool of blood that was beginning to soak into the earth. Ears back, the hounds growled at the strong scent, then wanted to track on, but Kate led them back to the kitchen, where Jennet now held the lantern aloft. Bloodstains pocked the rush-strewn floor, especially vivid where the rushes had been scuffed away. Jennet shone the lantern round – a bloody handprint on a small door to the side. Lille and Ghent strained at their leashes.