A Twisted Vengeance

Built so close to the edge of the tidal flat that when the river swelled with runoff from the high moors it stood in saturated mud, the house leaned into its neighbor, the base of the steps rotting.

A short, stocky man emerged from the shadow of the house beside it, nodding to Matt, who introduced him as Hugo, his aunt Alice’s intended. He eyed something on Kate’s chest, and she realized that she had folded back one side of her summer cloak, revealing the bow and quiver beneath.

Covering the weapons as best she could – there was no need to flaunt the fact that she was armed, not with the city so tense – she thanked him for watching the house and asked if he had seen the Welshman this morning.

“I have. He returned early but left again almost at once, looking round as he walked off, as if he felt me watching him. I kept well to the shadows.”

“Did he use the boat last night?”

“Aye. In the storm, can you believe it? I almost did not watch, thinking no one would take such risk.”

“You did not confront him?”

“Didn’t like the looks of him. I’ve seen what happens to those who take on the armed men from the camp. Now we have a description of him, we were going to report it. Let the sheriffs deal with him.”

Kate described Werner and asked whether Hugo had ever seen him at the house, or in Griffin’s company.

“The first time, when he talked to the landlady about the room, he did have another with him. It might have been this man. Henna – the landlady – said he did not speak, and the Welshman said it would be just himself staying there, with his woman.”

Griffin – and Nan? So where had Werner been staying? Kate recalled the signs that he’d not washed, perhaps slept rough. But why? What was their scheme? Was Griffin now on the run for his life? And what did Nan, if it was her, have to do with it?

Hugo offered to help search the chamber. Kate said they needed him to stand watch down below, with Matt. If trouble approached, he was to start up the steps – calmly, without raising an alarm. The hounds would hear his approach and warn Kate and Berend.

Berend took the steps slowly, minimizing the telltale creaks, Lille right behind him, then Kate, then Ghent, who would snap at anyone trying to sneak up behind. At the top, the door was barred from the outside, secured with a padlock. Berend put his good ear to the door, shook his head. No sounds. He motioned for Kate to let Lille come forward. Lille sniffed, then pawed at the door. No laid-back ears, but she whimpered, which meant she sensed no immediate trouble, but something was not right. Kate let Ghent come up beside Lille, holding them ready to enter the chamber. Berend crouched down, picked the lock with a wire, then eased the bar out, setting it aside. He pressed his ear to the door again, listening, then, nodding to Kate, he rose and eased it open.

A thump and a woman’s muffled cry.

The room was dark. No windows. Kate cursed herself for not thinking to bring a lantern. Berend identified himself and his companions. Kate released the hounds’ leads so that they might move into the windowless room, guiding Berend to the source of the sound. Ghent made a soft sound of recognition.

“I’m removing the rag over your mouth now.” Berend spoke in a soft, calming tone. “Quiet, I pray you. I know you will want to scream out all your anger, but I do not advise it. We want to take you away from here without raising an alarm, eh?”

“Bless you,” Nan’s voice cracked.

“I’ll cut the ropes now and carry you out,” said Berend. “You will want to rub your wrists and ankles when they are free, but wait if you can until we clean any abrasions and bandage them.”

“Who did this to you?” Kate asked.

“The Welsh traitor,” Nan croaked. “Griffin.” Nan’s voice was weak, though not her spirit.

“Traitor? Traitor to whom?”

“Dame Eleanor, and all of us. Can’t talk. So dry.”

“You will have water soon. And food,” Kate assured her.

Berend scooped Nan up. “Put your arms round my neck if you can.”

“Only take me from this place,” Nan whimpered.

Kate withdrew to the landing with the hounds. As Berend brought Nan out into the light, Kate saw that she was filthy, her clothes muddied and torn, her hair sprouting a spider’s web and who knew what else. She touched the woman’s back, assuring her that she was safe now. To be trussed up and locked in that windowless room, not knowing if she would die there, alone, unshriven – Kate silently cursed Griffin as she followed Berend down the steps. Ghent descended alongside, as if to support her. She rested her hand on his back, appreciating the bond. “Some things are worse than murder,” she whispered, as if he could understand.

Down on the street, Matt cursed softly. “What has he done?”

“Might your aunt care for Nan until we return?” Kate asked.

He assured her she would. “Poor Nan,” he whispered.

“We’ll do whatever you require, Mistress Clifford,” said Hugo, offering to take Nan from Berend.

“No need,” said Berend. “Lead the way.”

Two doors down and up a short flight of steps, he led them into a large room with a stone fire circle in the center and pallets piled in a corner. Five children rose from their play to stare at the newcomers.