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 breathed more easily once the girls had been bustled into the classroom by their schoolmaster, relieved that he had shut the door against the fog with naught but a nod to Kate. She was in no mood for a lecture this morning. But as she turned to leave, she heard the door open behind her, then felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Forgive me for my discourtesy,” said Master Jonas, “but I did not want my pupils to overhear.” With worried eyes the schoolmaster asked if she knew anything about the company of soldiers that had earlier swarmed down Petergate and up Stonegate.
Even he.
“I expect they were the Earl of Westmoreland’s men,” said Kate. “Come to help restore the peace.”
“Restore it? They have disturbed it.”
“They are here to solve the murders of Merek and Horner.”
“Sow trouble, reap trouble.” He wagged his head as if speaking of unruly children. “I see no need for an armed invasion. In any case, I thought the sheriffs had taken your cook into custody. Did they arrest him in error? Mind you, I do not believe Berend would do such a thing unless he did it for the good of the city. But murder is a crime. Not to mention a grave sin.”
Quite a speech from the schoolmaster, and it challenged Kate to listen with equanimity. “Of course Berend did not murder those men. Sir Elric and I agree that they arrested him in haste. As to the armed invasion, I did not witness their arrival. A pity that they inspired fear rather than reassurance.”
“Indeed. Well. I wish them success. Benedicite, Mistress Clifford.”
“Benedicite,” said Kate just in time before Master Jonas opened the door only so wide as to slip inside, as if fearful lest he let a child loose into the streets. He closed it softly behind him, and she waited for his usual loud tirade. But she was distracted by a sense of someone watching her. She felt rather than saw something in the mist, slipping back round the side of the building. Drawing her knife from her skirt, she concealed it beneath her cloak as she stole along the side of the building to Petergate and peered round the corner. No one. But out in the street someone slipped on the cobbles, cursed. Kate hurried forward, but she saw no one until she reached the intersection with Stonegate. There the sun shone down, thinning the mist, illuminating a crowd of folk congregating.
“Soldiers in the yard of the York Tavern,” a neighbor said as she joined him. “A great company.”
Elric’s men had indeed arrived.
As she passed the shop of Pendleton, the silversmith, she paused, remembering the jeweled girdle she had glimpsed on the shelf in his office, and her sense that Lady Margery did not wish her to know how it came to be there. She knocked on the door.
A young servant answered, the dust in his hair sparkling with traces of silver.
“We are not prepared to receive customers so early, Mistress.”
“Would you ask your master if I might speak with him? It is important. Tell him it’s Katherine Clifford.”
A man shoveled slushy snow away from the front of the shop next door, pausing for a moment to ask if she had seen the soldiers.
“Not as yet.”
“I thought we were well rid of them, drunk and rowdy, picking fights with us working folk.”
He shivered beneath his much-patched tunic, a skinny man, more bone than flesh. She was searching for a response when the door behind her opened.
“Dame Katherine, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?” Roland Pendleton’s hearty voice rang out, turning heads on the street.
“Might we talk inside?”
A glance at the sweeper, and another clerk across the way pretending to be checking one of the storefront’s latches, and Pendleton stepped aside, welcoming her in. In the shop the lamps were lit, the lad who had answered the door and another busily assembling materials for the day’s work.
“Is it about the soldiers? They’re from Sir Elric’s garrison, are they not? Sheriff Hutton?”
The lads looked up, eager to hear any news.
“Yes. But that is not why I have come.”
“Ah. Well then,” he gestured toward his office behind the workshop.
As Kate took a seat, she glanced at the shelf on which she had glimpsed the dymysent. But all she could see were records in a neat stack. “I will not keep you long. I noticed an item on your shelf the other day, a jeweled girdle, that I know to belong to Lady Margery Kirkby.” She saw by his expression that he had not known of the connection to Lady Kirkby. So Kate was right, her friend had not brought it here for repair. “Might I ask how you came to have it? A man’s life may depend on your answer.”
Roland nervously cleared his throat. “A jeweled girdle? Are you certain? I cannot recall–”
“Was it the spice seller Merek who brought it to you?”
“Merek? The man who was murdered?” Roland crossed himself and shook his head. “Lord have mercy.” He hesitated. “Why would you think that?”
“Or was it my cook Berend who brought it?”
“Berend?” He blinked, as if caught without an answer. “Is it true what they say? That he has been accused of murdering Merek and Jon Horner? And took part in the rebellion?”
“He has been taken to York Castle. I am trying to prove his innocence.”
“I swore.” A sigh that deepened to a groan. “But this changes everything.” A long pause. “Yes, Berend brought it to me to raise some money. For a lady in need, he said. I thought a lady friend in the family way, though I should have wondered. A cook courting a woman who could afford such a piece? But it was Berend – we all trust him. I had no idea it was– Her husband was executed for treason, was he not?”
For a lady in need. Margery? Damn the woman. “When was this?”
“Several days ago. It is a fine piece. I paid him well. I did not know it was the property of a traitor, or that he was so accused. And then the murders– God help me. Dame Katherine, I pray you …”
“Berend brought it to you. Did he tell you anything about the lady, where she was, what trouble she faced?”
Roland shook his head. “Nothing. He did advise me to go elsewhere to sell it. I thought a summer fair … What should I do with it?”
“Keep it hidden.”
“I paid good money–”
“Patience, I pray you. All may yet be well. But say nothing.”
“I swear.”
“See to it.”
“God be thanked I am not always so easily led astray. I was offered another piece and, well …”
“Yes?”
“Stolen goods.”
“Do you have the piece?”
The man did not meet her eyes as he shook his head. “I expect a client any moment …”
She touched his arm. “Master Roland, I pray you. Two people are dead, another badly injured. Sir Elric and I are doing all we can to find the murderer before there is more tragedy. Who showed you a stolen item?”
“Sir Elric, you say? The earl’s man?” The silversmith searched her face. “You are asking for him?”
It rankled to play Elric’s subservient, but if it put Roland at ease … “Yes.”
He hesitated a moment, then sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “It was Jon Horner, God rest his soul. He brought in a gold brooch. Fine work, very fine. He wanted to know its worth, whether he had been charged a fair price. He had indeed.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But I told him there was nothing fair about his having been offered it for purchase. You see, I recognized the piece. It belongs to my sister-in-law. Stolen weeks ago.”
So not from the casket. “What did he do?”
“Plucked it from my hands and rushed out of the shop. My servant tried to stop him, but he moved too fast.”