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.
“And Carl?”
She told him of Carl’s fate. “I have seen to his burial.”
Berend bowed his head, crossed himself. “She put you at such risk.”
“You took a risk going to Pontefract,” she said.
“I have lost the knack of going unnoticed.”
“I did not mean that. Why, Berend, why did you answer Salisbury’s summons? Elric left out the heart of the story, what drove you to take such a risk.” She joined him on the bed and handed him the pouch.
He took a breath as if to prepare himself. “Elric mentioned this. I’d had no time to examine the contents of the casket.”
“Open it.”
His thick fingers seemed stiff from the cold, but he managed to open it, dropping the two rings in his left palm.
“I presume JM is the earl himself,” said Kate. “And the posey ring belongs to?”
“I remember him giving it to her. Why she is not wearing it–” Berend shook his head.
“Tell me about her.”
She watched the emotions play over his scarred face as he told her of Rosamund Lacy. He might have wed her. Fickle woman, or merely wanting the best for her child? Berend’s child? Now Merek’s part fell into place.
“I understand. I do.”
“Thank you, Katherine.”
“My dear friend.” Gently she took the rings from his warm palm, returned them to the pouch, closed it. “What will you do?”
“Ensure that Rosamund has the means to bring him up in safety and comfort.”
“In Scotland.”
“Yes. He told you that?”
“Margery did. She seems intent to accompany you.”
“She wants a purpose. You say she is safe?”
“For now. Will you stay with them?”
Berend shook his head. “How can I know? Rosamund will not know me. I was whole when we were together.”
“She will come to see you are more than you were then.”
He looked doubtful.
“And if his age proves he cannot be your son? If it was all a ploy to turn you to their purpose?”
“The point is that he might have been. The way I left–” He crossed himself. “And I owe Salisbury’s father a debt. For his unwavering belief in me. He would believe I would protect his grandson.”
“His bastard grandson.”
“Does that matter? Should I do any less for him than you’ve done for Simon’s children?”
“Oh Berend,” Kate whispered, but she could not find the words.
“I will miss the children,” he said. “All of you.”
“Surely there was another way to help, without being marked a traitor?”
“If there was, I did not think of it. Katherine, I owe it to Rosamund’s child, and to the man who helped me climb back out of the darkness.”
What could she say to that?
“I took many lives,” he said. “My atonement was never going to be easy. I believe God is testing my resolve.” With a remarkably steady hand, Berend poured ale, passed the bowl to her.
Taking a small drink, she handed it back to him. “Drink up. And eat the bread and cheese. I need you strong, and ready to move. Margery is safe, but not for long.” She told him about Skulker, how he had noticed the guards about the house in which she was hiding. “I will find a way to get the two of you out of York as soon as possible. With the casket.”
“You will do that?”
“Of course I will. I have faith in you, and I am certain you did not murder Merek.”
“Who did?”
“Do you care? He was no friend to you.”
“He was Rosamund’s brother. She will want to know. And he did stay in York, even added to what Salisbury had sent, sharing with her what he made on his spices.”
“He told you that?”
“Bragged about it. Said the people of York are easily separated from their money.”
“Griselde said you’d warned her to avoid him. Were his spices truly unique?”
“Not at all. And folk did not return after trying them. It was his potions that brought in the coin. Valerian powder and whatever else was not selling at present, mixed into watered wine. So. Have you discovered his murderer?”
“Perhaps.” She told him what Skulker had told her.
“Jon Horner.” Berend ran a hand over his bald pate. “But why?”
Kate told him about the stolen brooch.
“So Merek had tricked him and he felt a fool? I can understand his wanting some revenge, but such a savage assault, and returning to murder him? Then drinking poison? All because he was embarrassed to have purchased a stolen brooch?” Berend looked at Kate askance. “Horner was a coward. He would fear God’s wrath if he took his own life.”
“But not if he took another’s?” asked Kate.
“He would have time to repent.”
“Whatever you think of his courage, he did attack Merek and Lionel.”
“No one could have been more surprised than I was when I recognized him.”
“I agree that something is missing. Or someone,” said Kate. “I cannot make sense of it. But the sheriffs were eager to call it solved. And now, they will be even happier to learn that it’s mostly likely that Merek’s murderer is dead. Everything points to Horner. Tidy.”
“You will sort this out,” said Berend. “I would like to know who murdered Merek, in case I ever succeed in taking the casket to Rosamund and John.”
“When you deliver it to them.”
He met her confidence with raised eyebrows and a grin. “I would not like to be the sheriffs when they discover me gone.” Then he grew serious. “Parr and Sawyer. What will happen to them?”
She told him that she was about to question them at the York Tavern. As she talked, she felt her yearning that he might be there with her at the tavern. This time with him had reminded her how much she trusted his insights. Damn him for making himself so important to her.
“You and Bess Merchet.” His old, familiar grin. “A formidable pair. I can believe anything might happen.”
She patted his hand and rose. “I should go.” She waited as Lille and Ghent padded over to Berend to say their farewells.
He bent to them, stroking their heads. “I will be ready.”
“I pray you find the peace you seek,” she said. Calling the hounds to her, she began to walk to the door as it sank in that this might be the last time they would speak.
“I pray you do as well, Katherine.” Such sadness in his voice.
She waited until she was at the door to ask the most important question, as if it were a mere curiosity on her part. “What really happened in Cirencester?”
Berend had the cup of ale halfway to his mouth. Now he set it down. “What do you mean?”
“Two coincidences – you and Thomas at the abbey, you running for your life and finding the very barn in which Lady Margery was hiding.”
“I did not question it. I saw it as God’s plan.”
“God is not so cooperative.”
“You do not believe that he is testing me?”
There was a falseness in his injured expression. God might be testing him, but there was something in the coincidences that was of man’s agency.
“Well, we will see when we hear from Abbot John,” she said.
He looked dumbfounded. “You have sent a messenger to Cirencester?”
“To John Leckhampton, abbot of St. Mary’s Cirencester.”
He avoided her eyes. “God in heaven, why?”
So the abbot was the key. “Why not? Lady Margery said you were old friends. Would he not wish to help you?”
Berend tried to shrug it off, but he was troubled.
Quietly, she opened the door, letting Lille and Ghent slip through as she whispered a farewell.
Elric had been leaning against the opposite wall. He must have read something in her posture, or her face, and crossed to her in one long stride, catching her shoulders, looking into her eyes.