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.
She touched Petra’s cheek. For the two of them, life had never been tidy and ordered. Or for Marie and Phillip. They might be all the stronger for it, but how good it would be to rest. To find trust and a greater sense of safety.
Petra glanced up. “That woman in the kitchen said I look like you. She said you are my father’s sister.”
“She is right on both counts.”
“She said I will live with you now. Like those two.” She glanced at Marie, who saw her watching and bowed her head.
Softly, so that Marie could not hear, Kate said, “Not quite like them. Though I have come to love them as my own flesh and blood, they were kin to my dead husband. They are wards, but you are my niece, my blood kin.”
“My father did not like me. He paid Andrew to take me away.”
“My brother had little heart left, Petra.”
All that had happened must be confusing to the child, and frightening, sad – though she had not yet seen Petra cry. “Have you always lived with Andrew?”
When the girl did not answer, Kate glanced over, saw that the child was shaking her head very slowly, over and over, as if lost in the motion, her eyes still downcast.
“Who did you live with before?”
“Old Mapes, with deep wrinkles and the whitest hair. She was the wise woman, the healer.”
“Did you love her?”
“I guess. But she died. And then Andrew came.”
“How long ago was that?”
A shrug. “She made my hat. Still have it.”
So it was not so long ago, though the hat, a dark felt, was grimy and ragged at the seams and edges.
“Do you miss her?”
“I miss my cats and pony, and the goats. And Mapes.” The child’s throat closed over the healer’s name.
Kate guessed the time of tears would soon begin. A long silence ensued in which Marie’s prayers and Phillip’s soft snore were the only human sounds in the room. She let herself drift off into her own prayers for her brother’s soul, for Mary Caverton, Alice, Maud, Geoff, Connor – such a long list.
“Do I have a choice?” the child suddenly asked. “About living with you?” She had undone her braid and was twisting a wiry lock round and round a finger, studying it as if it were a crucial clue.
“No.”
“I thought not.”
“I think we might like each other.”
A shrug, still studying the remarkable curl. “Why do those big dogs follow you about?”
“Because we grew up together. They are what I have left of my life up on the border.”
“Will they bite me if I disobey?”
“No. They will bite only to defend themselves from attack, or to protect our household. Which includes you now.”
“How do they know?”
“They know.”
“Will I wear dresses?”
“Most of the time. But Jennet knows how to make them so you will move with ease.”
“I think I will miss Andrew.”
“I know. I will miss my brother Walter.”
“Would you tell me about him?”
Where to begin?
With his goats, Geoff whispered.
Kate smiled. “So you are fond of goats?”
19
Sovereign Seals
Jennet watched as Kate moved the chest and checked beneath the floorboards for Hubert Bale’s pouch and his letters of introduction from the king and the duke. Someone had searched Kate’s bedchamber while she and Jennet were otherwise engaged with Andrew Caverton and the unfolding drama of the day. Jennet had discovered the intrusion while Kate was searching for Phillip – a male scent in the room, a few items subtly out of place. She had remarked to Kate that whoever had searched was experienced and had taken their time.
“The pouch and the letters are still here, God be thanked.” Kate slumped back against the wall pressing the letters to her heart. The search had drained what little strength she could muster at the end of this most trying day.
“And nothing is missing?” Jennet asked, slipping off the bed. “Let me help you put it all back.”
Kate touched Jennet’s bandaged arm and shook her head. “Nothing is missing, and you must rest. I will put it back in a moment.”
Jennet shrugged. “As you wish.” She padded back to the bed. Settling back against the cushions, she sighed. “I’d wager it was Sir Elric. He was here at the house while we were in the gardens.”
“I know.” Of course he would be keen to find the letters and dispose of them. They were incriminating evidence of the Earl of Westmoreland’s connection with an assassin claiming to represent both the king and the duke. Treason. “I foiled him.”
“For now.”
“I intend to continue to do so. I might need these if I am cornered.”
“Sam must go away. He knows you have one of the letters. If he were to tell Sir Elric…”
“I thought of that.” Hours ago Kate had paused for a quiet word with Goodwife Bella, instructing her to slip poppy juice in some wine and make certain that Sam drank it down. The healer had proposed a few additional ingredients to fog his memory. Checking on Sam awhile ago Kate had found him groggy and confused. She must remember to pay Bella well for her services. “I will talk to Dean Richard about a place for Sam on one of his properties well away from York.” She forced herself up, tucking the pack back beneath the boards and arranging the furniture over the space.
“Sir Elric, here in your bedchamber, and he took nothing? Not even your silk shift as a memento.” Jennet grinned. “He is an honorable knight.”
Without comment Kate climbed into bed and slipped down beneath the covers, pulling them over her head. A romantic entanglement with Westmoreland’s man in York was the last thing she needed. Tomorrow she would show the letters to her uncle the dean. As Keeper of the Privy Seal he should be able to tell her whether the seals were official.
Lady Margery bent to the task, moving the letters so that they were in the best light from the casement window in the deanery hall. Dean Richard was not so familiar with Henry Bolingbroke’s seals to know whether this was current, but Lord Kirkby had kept up a correspondence with the exiled duke; hence the consultation.
“I knew that he had copied King Richard in adding Edward the Confessor’s arms, but I had not seen this motto: SOVEREYNE.” Margery gave a little shiver as she glanced up at Kate and Dean Richard. “I wonder that my Thomas did not mention it. Perhaps he does not take it to mean what the three of us clearly do? It is my greatest fear that my husband is too trusting, that he is mistaken in trusting that the duke wants to make peace with his royal cousin, that he wishes to claim his inheritance and nothing more.”
“At one time King Richard did name him as his heir,” said Kate. “Might this refer to his expectations?”
“After all that has transpired, Bolingbroke cannot be so naïve as to presume that. And such a seal would serve only to fuel King Richard’s suspicions.” Margery’s hands trembled as she folded the letters and handed them to Kate.
“This has troubled you. I am sorry.” Kate pressed Margery’s hand.
“Better to know.”
“So I am right in thinking this is an authentic letter, and the one introducing Underhill as King Richard’s man is a counterfeit?” Kate asked.
Both her uncle and Lady Margery nodded.
“Hide these well,” Margery whispered.