The Service of the Dead
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: A Kate Clifford Mystery #1
- Год: 2016
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus Books
- ISBN: 978-1-68177-175-5
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «The Service of the Dead». Краткое содержание книги:
Expertly recreating the social and political upheavals of late medieval Europe and the increasing power of the wealthy merchant class, acclaimed author Candace Robb introduces a new series starring Kate Clifford, a woman forged on the warring northern marches of fourteenth century England.
Political unrest permeates York at the cusp of the fifteenth century, as warring factions take sides on who should be the rightful king – Richard II or his estranged, powerful cousin in exile, Henry Bolingbroke. Independent minded twenty-year-old Kate Clifford is struggling to dig out from beneath the debt left by her late husband. Determined to find a way to be secure in her own wealth and establish her independence in a male dominated society, Kate turns one of her properties near the minster into a guest house and sets up a business. In a dance of power, she also quietly rents the discreet bedchambers to the wealthy, powerful merchants of York for nights with their mistresses.
But the brutal murder of a mysterious guest and the disappearance of his companion for the evening threatens all that Kate has built. Before others in town hear word of a looming scandal, she must call upon all of her hard-won survival skills to save herself from ruin.
Forgive me. But I have no idea how it would come to be here in York, he whispered.
You hold something back.
Silence.
I will know in time.
Silence.
She pulled out Hubert Bale’s pack. The letters of introduction, one for Jon Underhill, carrying King Richard’s seal, one for Hubert Bale, carrying the duke’s seal. According to Berend, Hubert Bale was the man’s true name. And he had been here in the service of Westmoreland, who was married to a Lancaster. It fit. Apparently Sir Elric guessed William was the king’s man, hence Bale had presented himself to him with the false name. Interesting, but not helpful. Returning them to the pouch, she slipped off the bed and hid it beneath the floorboards.
Settling back on the bed, she tried to forget the comb. It was no use. Again and again her eyes were drawn to it. She cupped it in her hands, held it to her heart.
A knock on the door. Jennet peered in. “I saw your light as I paced in the garden.” She looked at the bed. “Have you learned anything?”
“I am not sure. Come in, do. I sent you away only so you might sleep.” Now the questions Kate had wished to avoid would be most welcome. She laughed to see that Jennet was fully dressed. “Did you lie down at all?”
“I did. And slept awhile, not long. Then the lists began to march through my head and I thought a walk in the cold would freeze them.” She looked down at the comb. “Pretty. Was that in one of the packs?”
“Berend found it in the undercroft. It is mine, Jennet. Lost when I was – twelve? Thirteen?”
Jennet looked up with a half smile, as if expecting Kate to admit she was teasing. The smile faded. “You are serious. How is it here? Now?”
Kate shook her head.
“Your cousin William?”
“He was not there at the time.”
“This frightens you.”
Alice’s death was so like Maud’s. And Maud’s death killed Kate’s dream of standing beside her brothers as their equal. It made real the danger that she had sensed but denied, believing she needed only be strong enough. From that day forward she had understood that the danger was real. Her fear turned to anger. To be born a woman was to be cheated of that easy confidence she so admired in her brothers. That anger grew as her brothers circled round her, determined to protect her.
“I am imagining things. It is very like a comb I had as a child.”
“Hmpf.” Jennet shrugged as she sat down on the bed, touching the scattered items. She picked up the gloves. “Worn. Fine, though. A man’s gloves. A wide hand with stubby fingers.” She wiggled one of the gloves at Kate.
Kate forced a laugh. Wide palm, short, fat fingers on muscled arms pushing her down. Stubby fingers gripping the axe, eyes burning. You will pay for this. Running, her lungs burning, her torn gown soaked in blood.
Jennet put the gloves aside, picked up the broken lock pick. “I have one very like it.”
“You do. But this is not yours?”
Jennet patted her skirt. “I carry it always. I never know when I’ll need to find a way in, or out.” She frowned. “You are worried. Still the comb?”
Am I mad, Geoff? The gloves and the comb, are they part of a message? Did the Cavertons take my comb? The deaths all hurt me or someone close to me. Even the attempted fire fits. And if it is all traced back to my guesthouse, it could ruin me. Is this the pattern, Geoff? Is it possible?
Do not go out alone, Kate. Be safe. Take no risks.
But why? Why would the Cavertons come all this way? How could I matter so much? Your warning. You believe it’s possible. That the Cavertons might be here.
You are the one with eyes and ears, Kate. I only feel your fear.
“Lovely tools. Will you give them to Phillip?”
Kate made herself pick up the chisel, feel the heft in her hand, slip it back into its loop in the leather case. “Yes. I think I will take them to him first thing this morning. On my way to see Lady Kirkby.”
“You still mean to see her? Do you care what Lionel had to say now that you know Sir Handsome is the one in charge?” Jennet stuck her face close, peered up at Kate with a teasing grin. “I sensed the magic stirring between the two of you, do not think you can hide that from me.”
“It would still be interesting to hear Lady Margery’s impression. As for Sir Elric, his appeal will not sway me.”
Jennet nodded. “I never doubted that.” She rolled up the tools. “Young Phillip will be pleased. But Marie will expect something of equal worth. The comb?”
“No!” It was out before Kate could guard her tongue. “No. The teeth are too far apart for her fine hair. But you are right. I will promise her a new gown. We will choose the fabrics together.”
A nod. A yawn. “Shall we try to sleep a little?”
Kate realized she was cold now. Hiding beneath the covers for a while held some appeal. They set the items carefully on the bench beneath the window and climbed into bed.
“Have you encountered any Scots in the city of late?” Kate asked as Jennet began to settle.
“The Cavertons? Do you think they stole the comb?”
On the night Kate caught Jennet thieving in the hall, she had recognized something in the young woman’s eyes, the anger, the determination. Shortly after Jennet began to serve Kate, they shared bits of their stories. Jennet knew of the Cavertons, of Maud, of her brothers’ deaths. Not everything, but enough.
“Young Andrew had wide palms, short, fat fingers, and spent his coin on fine gloves and boots.”
“The one who got away? The scarred one?”
“Yes.”
“Face pulled together on the right, and missing that ear.” She was quiet a moment. “There is always talk of suspicious Northerners on the streets, and many badly scarred men about, but I have heard of no such newcomer.”
Kate closed her eyes. “But you did not know to ask.”
“No. You think Andrew Caverton has done all this as revenge?”
“It is madness, I know. All because of a comb that stirred memories.”
“And the gloves. Both in the undercroft that was set on fire.”
“So I might never have known they were there. A different culprit? Am I simply imagining the connections?”
It was not long past dawn when the men pounded on the door below, waking Lille and Ghent. And Kate, who was amazed to realize she had slept. She was alone in the bed, Jennet already up. Kate dressed with care, armed and ready to slip away to the deanery as soon as she could, grateful that she could be so clearheaded despite that pounding on the hall door.
Downstairs, a pair in the livery of Westmoreland stood in the doorway, the mud of the road on their clothes. One of them apologized for arriving so early. “But Sir Elric said you would want to know as soon as we found him,” he said.
“My servant Sam? You have found my servant?”
“We believe it is him. From what we can tell, he fits the description. The cart is coming behind us. We were first through Walmgate Bar to wake you, Mistress Clifford.”
From what they can tell? “Is he alive?”
“Only just, Mistress. He is breathing, not much more.”
Matt quietly informed her that Jennet had just gone out to the kitchen, and he had been about to let the dogs out into the yard when the pounding began.
“Take Lille and Ghent out to the yard and poke your head in the kitchen. Tell Berend we will need hot water and rags.” She turned back to the men. “Where did you find him?”
“Not far outside Walmgate Bar. We stayed there the night with him, in a farmhouse.” The man who had so far done all the talking nodded, then stepped back, as if considering his duty finished.