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.
“What could I possibly know?” He shook his head as he crossed the room to fetch several large books. This was no temporary move. Despite what he’d said, he did not expect to return. At least not as dean of the chapter of York Minster.
“Have you any idea what the thief wanted?” he asked as he crouched down at an open chest.
Apparently he did not intend to answer her question. Perhaps if she gave him the news he wanted … While he loaded the books into the chest, Kate told him about Marie’s encounter, and what she had learned from the sisters about the Christ child. All the while the dean continued his task, pausing now and then to rub his lower back – the chest was deep, the books heavy – never once glancing her way.
“Are you listening, Uncle?”
He nodded as he rose with a grunt. “I heard, I heard. Mothering an image of the infant Christ child – they bring it on themselves, these silly women.”
“It is the vicars choral who are silly. Brigida, Dina, and Clara are pious and dedicated to being of service to the community.”
A shrug. “Perhaps I am mistaken. If they are so, more’s the pity they tethered themselves to Dame Eleanor. Look what she’s done – she takes in a stranger–”
“That is not fair. It was Agnes’s house–”
“It was a poor choice.”
“In your opinion.”
“I cannot believe my ears. You, defending your mother?” He shook his head as he turned back to the table. “Have a care, Katherine. Do not hold onto hope that her spiritual endeavor is a sign of change. She will disappoint you.”
As he had disappointed her of late? “I merely noted that you are placing the blame before the facts.”
The dean shrugged. “As for Prior Norbert, he should be favorably disposed toward assisting your inquiry. He and Friar Adam are not the best of friends.”
“I should simply ask after Robin and request that he tell Friar Adam that Dame Eleanor and the sisters are not in need of him?”
“You might tell him first about Friar Adam, then ask after the wounded man. On second thought, better the other way. A mission of mercy.”
“I am grateful for your guidance in this.” She stepped over to the table, glancing at the rolls. Many bore royal seals. “I see you’ve been doing the king’s work while here in the city. Perhaps I should not have been surprised to hear that both you and the archbishop are abandoning the souls in your care to see to your more temporal duties. But why the haste?”
He moved the documents away from her. “The worthies of York have withdrawn their support from King Richard despite the charter he granted the city, and His Grace and I have been subtly advised to do likewise. But as men of the Church, we strive to remain neutral in this quarrel. We will be of more use in Westminster, where our voices might be heard, than we are here, where our voices cannot.”
“Not by the wealthy and powerful, perhaps, but what of all the others? Both of you are abandoning your spiritual community the moment you are challenged by the aldermen and their cronies – it seems a cowardly retreat.”
“Courage has nothing to do with it. It is about duty.”
“Your temporal duties, but your spiritual responsibilities? How can you disparage the beguines when every breath they breathe is dedicated to God?”
“Personal piety cannot be measured.”
“Yet you claim to measure theirs.”
“When did you become so concerned about matters of faith?”
“When you and the rest of the hypocrites in York set yourselves up as judges of others’ faith.” They stared at each other for a long moment, the dean’s eyes pained, Kate’s own filling with angry tears. She felt lost, hated herself for attacking him. He had been one of her staunchest supporters. “Just months ago you and Scrope hosted Lady Kirkby on her mission to gain support for her husband’s peace efforts,” Kate reminded him. “What of that?”
When the tensions had escalated between the two cousins on the death of John of Gaunt, Henry of Lancaster’s father, Sir Thomas Kirkby had gone to the Continent to discuss with the duke a road to reconciliation. His wife, Margery Kirkby, had traveled to wealthy cities, raising money for her husband’s efforts. As a favor to her uncle, Kate had hosted Lady Kirkby in her guesthouse.
“In winter we held out hope that all might be peacefully resolved. But the royal cousins were not interested.”
“What of Sir Thomas Kirkby? Has he returned from the Continent?”
“I think he would be wise to stay away until all is settled.”
“As you intend to do?” Kate wanted to kick something. “King Richard entrusted you with the Privy Seal, the Wardrobe – indeed you were once his chaplain. And surely you have heard the rumors that a bishop’s miter and crozier are in your future. Will you not stand by him?”
“Will he stand by me? That is the question all ask themselves. The king’s temper flashes at the subtlest suspected insult. What is meant in praise might be received as blame or disrespect.”
“And Duke Henry? Have you faith that he will be of a more appropriate temperament if crowned?”
“He seems a straightforward man. But if he surrounds himself with counselors who fear every twitch signals rebellion–” The dean pressed his hands over his eyes for a moment, then suddenly drew her into his arms, holding her tightly. She could feel his heart pounding. “Such a fierce pride. I shall miss you, Katherine.” A glimmer of hope. This was the uncle she knew. “As I said, I have something for you. I was going to have Alf deliver it, but now I see the error in that.” He released her and stepped back toward the table, plucking a scroll from a small pile to one side. “I’ve signed over to you my property on Low Petergate – the large house a door down from Stonegate. You’ve only to add your signature and seal. Thomas Graa and Archbishop Scrope have witnessed it. I’ve also included two horses.”
Dizzy with the sudden shift, Kate sank down on a chair. “What is this? You are not ill?”
“No. No, not at all.” Richard tapped his palm with the parchment as he looked aside, as if searching for what to say. “Forgive my harsh words about your mother and the beguines. I worry that you are attaching yourself to a woman who is viewed with distrust. If Duke Henry takes the throne, he will never rest easy. The subtle divides we see now will become far more obvious. If King Richard manages to keep his crown, the unease and distrust that have set him on this destructive path will deepen. In either case, you need to ally yourself with the powers in York in order to survive. I know you can do this. You have the heart of a warrior and the head of a merchant prince. With this gift and whatever comes to you from your late father’s estate, you will thrive. Lionel Neville has no claim to it. You will be free to wed whom you will, and all your children will have a good future.”
A heady proposition. “Why me? And why arrange it without consulting me?”
“I have grown fond of you and your household – Phillip, Marie, Petra, even Berend and Jennet. I watched you pick yourself up from the shock of your late husband’s will, embrace the children in whom you might have seen a betrayal. I admire you. Even the guesthouse. Indeed, I believe you would be better able to see to your guesthouse – more important to you than ever for the power it gives you over the city leaders – if you move your household to the house on Petergate. You can run the dogs in the fields beyond the walls. With the horses you can ride out to the manor west of Galtres, the dower property that you’ve slyly hidden from your creditors.”
He knew her so well. Too well. It felt as if he had studied what she would most desire and offered it to her – in exchange for what? “And you ask for nothing in return?”