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.
“If you are innocent of the murders of Merek and Horner, I want to find the murderer before he kills again. For that I need your help.”
“If I am innocent.” A sound that was almost a laugh. “I am hardly that. But I am innocent of their deaths.”
“Then you won’t mind removing your jacket and shirt?”
“To what end?”
“Merek’s attacker was injured. If you have no fresh wounds, I have physical proof to offer the sheriffs.”
“And your lord?”
“A fair assessment,” Elric admitted. “Before I use the power of the Earl of Westmoreland’s name to convince the sheriffs to release you into my custody, I want proof of your innocence.”
Berend lifted his bound hands. “This makes it difficult.”
“I can remedy that.” Elric drew his dagger.
“Why would you trust me?”
“Katherine’s entire household trusts you, including the great hounds. Who am I to question their wisdom?”
When Berend extended his arms, Elric noticed that the knot was sloppily done. In time, he might have freed himself. Friends in the castle? Elric sheathed his dagger and untied the rope. “Now if you would remove your jacket and shirt.”
Berend’s expression relaxed. “Bring the lantern closer.” He went one better, rolling up his leggings as well, then turned as best he could, lifting his thick arms, twisting them this way and that, revealing a network of old scars like rivers and tributaries.
Elric saw nothing that could account for the bloody knife. “Enough. I believe you.” Thank God for that. The last thing he wanted was to condemn Katherine’s good friend. “Dress yourself before you freeze to death,” he said. “Who took your shoes?”
Berend rolled down his leggings and put on his shirt. “The bailiff.”
“I’ve met him. Bloody fool, that man.”
Berend shrugged on his jacket. “Took my cloak as well. I could use that in here.”
“I do not intend for you to stay here tonight.”
“No?” Elric felt the man’s eyes on him, sizing him up. “It is not your decision to make.”
“As I said, I am invoking the power of my lord earl, whose power is at present second only to the king’s. Make use of me. Help me leave this place with you. I need your help.”
“How are you so certain I can help?”
Elric settled on one end of the bench, straddling it. “Come, sit down. I will tell you what I know, and you can decide for yourself.”
Berend did not move. “I am listening.”
“As you wish.”
Elric began, doing his best to ignore the rattling chains as Berend resumed his pacing. Eventually, Lionel Neville’s account of the night of Merek’s murder brought Berend to perch on the opposite end of the bench. He rested his hands on his thighs and bowed his head. Elric told him all he knew, except what Katherine had told him of her conversation with Berend. He need not know she had shared that.
He ended with a question. “Why did you not run when Paris discovered you? You know how to disappear quickly.”
Berend shifted on the bench, the chains rattling. “You believe you can get them to release me?”
Not an answer, but at least it was a sign of interest. “I cannot promise, but if you agree to help I will go to the sheriffs and do my best. It will help if you tell me something I might offer to them as proof you could be of help to me. Then they have every reason to release you into my custody.”
Such piercing eyes. “I ask again, why? Why do you care about this? Why are you even in York?”
“The earl charged me to keep the king’s peace in the city. Imprisoning an innocent man and concluding that the case is closed while the murderer is still at large is not in my interest, or my lord’s. Am I wasting my time? Are we foolish to trust you? You were seen arguing with Merek, and your possession of the casket of jewels–”
Berend glanced up, wary.
“Yes, Katherine found it with the help of her fine hounds. If I did not know you, I would think the sheriffs were right in confining you here. The contents of the chest would seem proof that you at the very least helped Salisbury and Lady Kirkby, both accused of treason.”
Berend averted his eyes, but not before Elric saw his confusion. Was it possible he had not been aware of the contents?
“You escorted Lady Kirkby to York,” said Elric, “of that I have no doubt.”
A mumbled curse. Berend resettled with his back to the light, resting his head in his scarred hands.
“Do you want time to think? Or would this help?” Elric drew a wineskin from beneath his jacket, tapped it against Berend’s arm. “Bess Merchet’s best brandywine.”
Berend took the wineskin, held it for a moment, then drew out the stopper and tilted back his head. Not a long drink, but more than a sip. He closed his eyes and almost smiled as the heat moved down his throat. After a pause, he replaced the stopper and lay the wineskin in his lap, turning round to face Elric. “There are things I would not have you share with Dame Katherine.”
“Then we have no agreement.” Elric retrieved the wineskin and rose.
Berend caught his arm. By the rood the man was strong. “It is not that I wish to deceive her. But there are things she does not know, and, hearing them now, so late, I fear they will cause her pain.”
“As would your execution.”
“I might be powerless to prevent that. But I saw how it went to learn from you about the land bequeathed me by my late lord. She might have been glad for me if I had been the one to tell her.”
Elric was sorry for that. “If you help me so that I can convince the sheriffs to entrust you to my custody, you will be able to tell her all this yourself. In your own way, however much you judge necessary. But I warn you, Salisbury’s crest and his signet ring, and the pouch holding Lady Kirkby’s jewels – she means to find out how you came to possess them. Every moment you hesitate causes her suffering.”
He watched the man’s struggle, the shake of the head, how he clenched his hands, worked his jaw. Who was he protecting? Whatever the reason Montagu lost him, he had been a fool. Elric would give half his men for the one before him. Strength with such a strong sense of honor.
“I’d no time to examine the contents of the chest.”
“Well, Katherine has.”
A muttered curse.
“Do you think we are looking for one murderer? Or two?” Elric asked, hoping to ease Berend into telling him more. “Can anyone vouch for you after you left Lionel? That you came back to the warehouse for the night?”
“The night watchman at the warehouse seemed asleep when I returned,” said Berend. “As to Horner’s murder– I would say someone wanted to silence him. But I would have thought that person would be Merek. Horner attacked him–” A perplexed lift of the hands. “Merek killed Horner and then was murdered?”
“No.” Elric eased back down on the bench, placing the wineskin between them. “Katherine says that Horner had not been long dead when she found him. Merek died the previous night.”
“Perhaps Horner was coerced to attack. And then was silenced …”
Elric considered that. “By whom?”
Berend shook his head. “I hardly knew the man.” He studied the floor. “What if the sheriffs refuse to release me after hearing my tale, they hear my story and still doubt my innocence, and she hears my tale from the city gossips?” His eyes were mournful, his posture weary. “It is easier to prove a lie than it is to prove the truth, you know that.”
He was right to be cautious. “We can discuss how much I tell them.”
Berend was reaching for the wineskin when a commotion outside the door interrupted him. “Here for my hanging already?” he said.