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 would look less haggard without the sharp contrast between her pale skin and her hair, but too easily recognized. “Best you keep the disguise for now,” said Kate. “At some point we will need to move you again.”
“I am preparing a better dye for you,” said Jocasta as she passed Margery a rag with which to wipe the dye off her hands. “Oak galls, alum, and urine fix better than the nutshells you have been using.”
Margery made a face as the cloth darkened. “I pray that is true.”
“Tell me how you came to be traveling with Berend,” said Kate.
“Who told you?”
“Berend told Sir Elric. Why did you not tell me?”
“Would you have continued to help me had you known the trouble I brought him? Will you now?”
“You forget yourself,” said Jocasta. “One would think you were ungrateful.”
Margery pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I would not blame either of you for throwing me to the dogs. I pray you forgive me.” She stared down at her hands. “I do not know what I would have done without Berend. I pray he does not pay with his life for his kindness to me.”
It is of little comfort that she realizes the danger in which she has placed him, said Geoff.
He was in danger from the moment he answered Salisbury’s summons, Geoff.
“I threw myself on Berend, begged him to take me with him,” said Margery. “I could not stay there. They would have found me. If they would not believe Thomas had no part in it – why would they accept my innocence?”
As if the king were being reasonable, said Geoff.
“You must find a way to free Berend,” said Margery. “He had nothing to do with the plot, I am certain. He condemned Salisbury. He did not come to Cirencester in the company of the rebels. When Thomas saw him, the rebels were already at the inn.”
“He came to you?”
“No. Thomas was in the abbey church the night before–” She crossed herself. “The abbot had written a letter of introduction for him, addressed to the abbot of a monastery in Cornwall.”
“Previously you’d said you did not know Thomas’s plans,” Kate noted.
“Did I?” Margery frowned.
Lies were like that, slippery things. “No matter. The abbot had written a letter–”
“Thomas was collecting it when Berend arrived. While the abbot was giving Thomas his blessing, he said the abbot suddenly glanced up with a gasp. ‘Berend Osgood? Is it you? But your ear.’ Clearly he had known Berend long ago. Thomas stepped away and let them exchange greetings, and then he invited Berend to stay the night with us. But the abbot would not hear of it. ‘I must hear about my friend’s adventures. Another night, Sir Thomas. Another night.’”
Berend Osgood. Another piece of his story Kate had never known. Berend Osgood. Was he from Cirencester? And what was this about his being the abbot’s friend? Berend had not described him so.
“So you had no chance to talk to Berend that evening?” Kate asked.
“No. Thomas–” Margery shook her head as tears fell. “No, he came straight back with the letter.”
“Do you have it – the abbot’s letter?”
“No. Thomas was carrying it when …” Margery shook her head.
Pity, Geoff whispered.
“How did you come to be traveling with Berend?” Kate asked again.
“He found me in the barn, with the groom’s body. Carl was pacing back and forth, praying and weeping. I was covered in blood – Thomas’s and the groom’s. God guided Berend to us. He helped my manservant bury the boy. And then– I could not stay in Cirencester, to do so would endanger my family even more than we already had. Berend slipped out after dark with my sister’s husband and recovered Thomas’s body. My sister promised to bury him as soon as they might do so secretly. This they did for me.” A sob. “I hoped that my departure would save them. I told them to denounce me, denounce Thomas, deny any knowledge of his body, say that I had taken it.” She stopped, staring at her hands. “I pray they are safe.”
Once a family is cursed …
It is not the same as our story, Kate.
No, Geoff?
“They recovered Thomas’s body, but not the letter?” asked Kate.
“Nothing he was carrying,” Margery whispered. “The mob had stripped him of his clothes. Everything.”
Why the whisper? Kate wondered. Why now?
You do not believe her?
The story keeps changing. Why?
“Will you rest now?” Jocasta asked.
Margery fixed her too-bright eyes on Kate. “Did you hear that Henry’s head was crawling with lice at his crowning?”
Petra’s vision.
“I want him to suffer,” Margery said flatly. “For all the days left to him may he never feel safe, may he never trust another, may he cower in the sight of God, who will avenge the good men Henry brought down. And then may he rot in hell.” She shook her head. “I cannot give myself up to Sir Peter. You and Sir Elric must find a way to free Berend so that he and I can continue to Scotland. We must not fall into the hands of the usurper.”
“Scotland?”
Margery studied Kate. “Speak to Berend.”
Jocasta made an impatient sound. “My lady, you place yet more friends in danger with your demands.”
Margery did not meet her eyes.
“You might be safer to escape separately,” said Kate.
“He has my jewels.” Margery looked defiant.
“About them. You lied to me about the dymysent I saw in the silversmith’s shop.”
Margery looked away. “I meant to protect him,” she said softly.
Rising, Jocasta declared the conversation over. “Come, my lady, you are overtired. You must rest.”
To Kate’s surprise, Margery permitted herself to be led away. No, this was not the Lady Kirkby she had known.
After Katherine had departed, Bess could not settle to her tasks. She had a nagging feeling about Trimlow the baker. There had been a cockiness in him when she’d complained this morning about the bread he’d delivered, as if he no longer felt dependent on her custom. The cur. He’d been the one to point the finger at Berend. Now that was interesting. Suddenly in the money, was he? She sent for his wife, said it was urgent she speak to her.
Edda Trimlow’s pretty face was marred by a bruise on her cheek and a split lip.
“I had a word with your husband this morning about his delivery. I’ve never seen the like from your ovens – lumpy and tasteless. Serve that to my customers and they won’t return, will they?”
Edda stuttered her apologies for the inferior quality of the bread as her eyes flitted about the public room of the tavern, anything not to look Bess in the eye.
“Come. I do not mean to shame you, my friend.” Bess led Edda into her more private space. “Had he told you of our conversation?”
“He said you complained about the bread.”
“Did he tell you that he thumbed his nose at me and strutted out as if he could not be bothered? As if he doesn’t need my custom of a sudden?”
Edda looked alarmed. “Of course we do, Bess. I will speak with him.”
“And suffer more injuries?” Bess laid a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder. “What’s he done to you, eh? What’s he beaten you for? What’s he hiding?”
“He lied, Bess. He lied about seeing Dame Katherine’s man with the spice seller. It’s those men sleeping in the shed in the back garden. They paid him to say it. He did not go out that night. A baker needs his sleep. I told him he must confess.” She touched her bruised cheek.