A Murdered Peace

“Both of them?”

“He insisted.” Winifrith shook her head. “But it is the king’s man who worries me. If there is anything we can do.”

“I am grateful.” Kate rose as Thomas Holme approached, expecting him to greet her. But his attention was on his nephew, Leif, and a female companion who leaned on his arm and touched his cheek as they watched a group of jugglers.

“Go on, do. I am content to sit here for a while,” said Winifrith. “Thomas looks as if he’ll have quite a lot to say about his nephew’s paramour. Come report back to me.”

Her tone was good-humored, with a touch of relief, as if she had not expected to mend her friendship with Kate so easily. It had never been Kate’s intention to carry a grudge against her.

Kate promised to find her again later, and signaled to Lille and Ghent to accompany her.

“You look concerned,” said Kate as she joined Thomas.

“That Wheeldon woman,” he growled. “She is too bold with my nephew in public.”

Now, as the couple turned toward another group of entertainers, Kate could see that it was indeed Cecily Wheeldon who hung on Leif’s arm, and now patted his chest as she spoke. No question about her intentions. “You were not so against her the other day. Have you heard something to change your mind?”

“I know little except that there is some gossip about the manner of Ross Wheeldon’s death. How suddenly he was gone, and how little she seemed to mourn him.” He glanced at Kate with a sad smile. “I fear it might be so when I die, they will wonder what my Catherine saw in me, an old, plain man, and she so fresh and beautiful.”

Yet he met a mistress at Kate’s guesthouse. As did Sheriff John Wrawby, who was just now nodding to Kate as he passed her with his wife on his arm.

Elric turned his back to Berend to give him some privacy while he struggled into the women’s garb that Jennet had provided him. The goodwife who had accompanied Elric would remain behind, surprising the evening guards when they came to check on Berend. She was at present happily dining on the meal the beguines had delivered earlier. She was almost as large as Berend, a precautionary accomplice urged on him by Bess Merchet in case one of Sir Peter’s men were watching and had noticed Elric arrive alone and leave with a companion. He’d agreed, having learned to trust Bess’s judgment. Pray God his own proved as good. All night he had tossed and turned, questioning his reason. Today he would risk all that he had fought so hard to gain – his place in the earl’s household, the land that the earl had granted him for his service. Already he had risked much with Parr and Sawyer, though Sir Peter had expressed only gratitude when he delivered them up.

But what he was about to do – no, this Sir Peter would not forgive. And if he discovered that Lady Margery had been in York, and this evening would be ferried across the Ouse with Berend, then riding north with him – oh, that he would most definitely not forgive. Nor would the earl.

Elric risked much. For Katherine? No. He understood now that he’d never been more to her than a tool to be discarded when she had no more use for him. Had he really believed she might choose him over Berend? He’d seen how her eyes softened when she spoke of the man. He could not fault her taste. Berend was one of the most honorable men he’d encountered. And if even half the stories about his feats as an assassin were true, he was a skilled, fiendishly clever warrior. Elric admired that. So would Earl Ralph, if he were to meet him. If there had been a way … But Berend had a mission, a quest. God grant him the grace to complete it. Elric paced, waiting for Berend to tell him he might look.

Wulf and Stephen were guarding the door. Once Elric and Katherine had devised the plan, he’d sent two of his other men with Skulker – Wulf and Stephen were too crucial to the mission, men who were committed to Berend’s escape. At the door with them was a lad who could run like the wind and could quickly dispatch any necessary messages to Douglas and Harry, Elric’s men awaiting them at the staithes. From there, Berend would be taken downriver to Bishopthorpe, where Kevin waited with Lady Margery. Elric had sent him with a letter to the archbishop’s steward, who was a distant cousin of the Earl of Westmoreland. Another mad risk, using his earl’s name to beg a favor. But if all went well, the earl might never know. Pray God it was so.

Katherine had made this all possible, with a visit to Sheriff Wrawby and to one of the workers at the staithe yesterday. He had not been invited to the latter meeting, but he had played a role in her meeting with Wrawby, which had been one of the most uncomfortable interviews of his life. Elric knew Katherine was no more comfortable than he, but no one watching her could have guessed, and certainly not Wrawby, who squirmed and complained and then bowed his head and agreed. He was a customer at the guesthouse and feared being exposed not only to his wife, but to his fellow sheriff. God help him. Elric had asked what she would have done had Cottesbrok been the one who would be checking in on the day of the feast and she’d laughed – he was also a patron, though his wife knew of it. A cripple, his wife did not begrudge him his entertainments. She could not predict whether it would be Cottesbrok or Wrawby responsible for choosing who would be on duty today. She needed people who were sympathetic to Berend, or easily moved out of the way.