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.
“She wanted to find her missing glove?” Kate whispered, determined to tell him all.
“Glove?”
She crossed the hall to fetch the scrip in which she had hidden away the things she had found in Horner’s chamber. She handed him the elegant leather item.
He held it out toward the light of the fire, turning it over, back. “It is the sort of thing she would wear.”
“The woman who owned the glove might have helped Horner back to his room when he fell ill,” said Kate, “dropping the glove as she struggled to get him into bed, then, when she stepped out into the cold morning and realized she had only one, did not care to return. To be there as he struggled to live.”
“You think she poisoned him?” He touched the mysterious herbal ball in her hands. “May I see that?” She handed it to him. He sniffed it, felt it, then loosened a small piece of it with his nail and lifted it to his mouth.
“What if it’s poison!” Kate cried, plucking the ball from his hands.
“It is a bezoar stone. Used to protect oneself from poison, or lessen the effect.”
Interesting. Horner had been protecting himself. “I have heard of them, but I have never seen one.”
“Ah.” He smirked. “Now you have.”
She wanted to slap him. Controlling the impulse, she returned to the point. “So Horner feared he was being poisoned, or might be. He knew he courted danger. But we don’t know the glove is Cecily Wheeldon’s.”
“Nor do we know that it belongs to his poisoner. But it would be worthwhile speaking to her.”
“I will think of a way.”
He nodded.
“I suppose you won’t believe that I had resolved to share all of this with you tonight.”
“No, I don’t.”
They were sitting in uneasy silence when Matt returned with ale, serving them both, then withdrawing.
“Did you tell Berend that Lady Margery was safe?” Elric asked when they were once more alone.
“Yes. Just that. Did he tell you?”
“No. He did not betray you.” The words were meant to wound. They did. He put his bowl aside, slapped his thighs. “I need to find Parr and Sawyer.”
Kate rose, calling the hounds to her. As she walked out of the hall with Elric and the dogs, a man of the night watch hailed them from the street. “If the sheriffs wish to speak to folk about Berend’s honor, I am at your service, Mistress Clifford.”
“I will remember that,” she said. “Bless you.”
Elric nodded to the man, then strode off into the night without a word.
In the kitchen, Kate slumped down onto a stool by the fire, reaching her hands out to the warmth. “Elric knows everything,” she said to Jennet.
“Good. He is a good man.”
“Is this from your eyes and ears?”
A nod as Jennet handed Kate a cup of something spicy and almost too hot to hold, then bent to plump the pillows on the pallet she had arranged for herself near the fire.
“You will need a man, by and by,” said Jennet.
“Hand me the heated stone so I can warm my bed, eh?”
Kate had not the heart to speak of her despair. But apparently it was obvious.
“He did not take it well, coming so late?” Jennet asked.
Kate shook her head and rose, clutching the stone.
Up in the solar Kate wrapped the stone she had brought from the kitchen and placed it beneath the mound of blankets so that it might begin warming the bedclothes while she undressed. Usually she loved the moment when she finally stretched out on her back beneath the bedclothes, the strain of the day draining away. Jennet had found a laundress who scented the bedding with rosewater and lavender blossoms, and the fragrance rose round her as the stone and her body heated the cloth. This was sweetness, the warmth lulling her to sleep.
But not tonight. Her mind raced, and her heart lurched between fear, anger, remorse. There was more to Berend’s story, something he felt the need to explain to her. Was everything she had believed about him a lie? And Margery. Why were her jewels nestled with those of the Earl of Salisbury? What was her connection to the uprising?
She cursed herself. As soon as she had learned of Margery’s possible complicity in the plot she should have confided in Elric. Stupid stupid woman. No, coward. That is what she was, a coward. Once she had set foot on the path of deception she had been afraid to step off and trust Elric. Now she had lost him. Lost a friend, a comrade in arms, a potential lover. Yes, she admitted to herself that she had hoped to lead him there. Bloody fool. All for the sake of a friend who had not told her the whole truth about how she came to be hunted.
She pushed those thoughts away. Save the anger until she knew all there was to know.
Worry took over. Was Berend warm enough? How were his wounds? Could she trust Cottesbrok and Wrawby to protect him? Elric trusted them.
Damn Elric. She turned on her side, hoping a new position would bring on more relaxation.
But her mind would not still. Had it been only two days ago that she had paid off the last of Simon’s debt? Two days ago she had been so– No, she was forgetting Petra’s unhappiness. Berend’s disappearance. Kevin’s return to the earl’s service.
She stirred herself to remember how it had felt when she’d realized the extent of Simon’s debt. An impossible amount. She’d felt betrayed, robbed, angry – so angry. It had been her anger that had driven her to put all her strength in digging out from under it. She had accomplished it without help, certainly without resorting to something that would put her at the same risk – marriage. Standing on her own two feet, independent, self-sufficient, that had been her goal over these past three years. And she had succeeded.
She waited for the surge of joy, or at least satisfaction. Nothing. Only a yawning emptiness. And a rising fear of what more Berend was about to reveal to her.
Seeing Marie and Petra to school, Kate shrugged at their complaints about the unseasonably warm morning. Yesterday it had been too cold. Tomorrow the sun would be too bright. Mornings were difficult for both girls at the moment. Neither slept well, Petra because of her nightmares, the Sight, whatever it was, and Marie– Kate was not certain why she was wakeful, her queries met with stony silence. Marie’s pride might prevent her from admitting that she feared Petra’s whimpers and accounts of disturbing or prescient dreams. But when Kate had offered to move Marie to a separate bedchamber, the child would not hear of it. So every morning was a struggle.
Still, Kate disliked how the warmth of the rising sun caused a fog as it touched the moisture-laden chill of the ice- and snow-clad houses and streets. Even more troubling were the clusters of people here and there, their heads together, whispering excitedly. Only something serious would draw them out in such numbers to stand about chilled to the bone by the heavy mist that quickly penetrated all but the finest woolens and furs. She regretted leaving Lille and Ghent in the kitchen. She had not felt comfortable leaving Jennet alone while seeing to the morning chores. Matt had left early for her cousin William’s house. If all went well he would return soon with the new servant, Cuddy, and news of the king’s men. But she’d thought it best to leave the hounds with Jennet, worried about the jewels and coins, a treasure.
“Soldiers, they are talking about soldiers.” Marie grabbed Kate’s hand. “Are we under siege?”
Kate squeezed her ward’s hand and assured her that was not the case, that the soldiers were most likely Sir Elric’s men. He had sent for them to help search for the murderer.
But Kate was uneasy. She would have expected Elric to do all he could to avoid the trouble such a show of force might stir up. Bedlam, as in Cirencester. Berend’s tale should have reminded him of the danger of rumor, how stoking people’s fears might spark violence.