A Murdered Peace

The hounds grew restive and so did Kate. The boy should have been here by now. She had found the hostess, Isabella Frost, presiding over this excessive display from the hall doorway and inquired about her daughter, Hazel, whether she would permit Kate’s wards to join the invalid in her chambers. They wished to bring her some gifts from the festivities and keep her company for a while. Tell her all the wonders they had seen in the yard.

The imperious Isabella startled Kate by giving a little sob as she sank onto a bench by the door.

“What is it? Is it Hazel?” Kate asked, bending to her.

“The children – how kind of them. I would be so grateful if they would keep her company. Hazel was so unhappy when the physician objected to our plans – a sedan chair, moving about the festivities. I had not thought her too weak for that, but he was adamant.”

Since the birth of Hazel, their only child, William and Isabella had known that she might die any day, ever fearing the next fever would take her from them. Marie and Petra loved Hazel, and Phillip was kind to her, uneasy about the adoration in the girl’s eyes when she gazed on him, but knowing that he had a knack for making her laugh.

Kate rose. “I will fetch them.”

Isabella reached out to Kate and held her hand for a moment. “Bless you.”

For this woman to make such gesture, express such gratitude – Kate felt shaken and heartsick as she stepped out into the yard.

Her mother swooped down on her. “Katherine, you must introduce me to all those you know.” When Kate did not answer at once, searching the crowd for the children, Eleanor touched her arm. “What is it?”

She shook her head and promised Eleanor she would return in a moment, after she had completed her mission.

“There is a lad searching for you,” said Eleanor as Kate moved into the crowd. “There he is.” Kate turned as Eleanor motioned to the lad to approach.

“Mistress Clifford,” he bobbed to her, and drew two strands of leather out of his jacket. “What would you offer me for these fine leads for your hounds?”

God be thanked, it was the signal that Berend was off downriver. As she reached for the leather, he slipped a folded parchment into her hands as well.

“A ha’penny,” she said.

“For this fine leather?” he feigned dismay.

Laughing with relief, she gave him a penny and shooed him off. Ignoring her mother’s gasp of disapproval, Kate moved on, gathering the children and delivering them to their friend.

While the children settled around Hazel in her large bedchamber, Kate withdrew to a seat beneath one of the large windows, the hounds at her feet, and read the parchment. On the outer sheet Berend addressed her, explaining that he could not with clear conscience permit either Kate or Elric to be punished for their selfless acts on his and Lady Kirkby’s behalf. When Sir Peter discovered the betrayal he should be given the enclosed document, in which Berend listed all the names he could remember from the Oxford gathering, and swore that he had merely ascertained that the former king was indeed imprisoned in Pontefract. That he had accepted that mission in exchange for information regarding his former mistress and his son. He swore that to his knowledge Lady Kirkby was not in York.

Kate smiled at the last part. Well he might swear, knowing that Lady Margery awaited him at Bishopthorpe. Folding the parchments, she tucked them in her scrip and left the children giggling as the frail Hazel, with her fiery cheeks and too-bright eyes, weakly exclaimed over the baubles and candies the children had brought her.

Down in the yard, her mother paced. “There you are, my dear. Who was that sweaty boy that you felt obliged to buy his shoddy bits of leather?”

“One of Dame Jocasta’s rescues, Mother. He is a good lad, carrying messages for her about the city and trying to learn a trade.”

Eleanor sniffed. “Well, I suppose. Now, do introduce me to this gentleman coming along.”

“John Wrawby, the sheriff? You have not met him?”

“Not in a social setting, my dear.”

Wrawby seemed quite uncomfortable as Kate introduced him and his wife. While Eleanor took Mistress Wrawby in hand, he whispered, “When will we know?”

“We do. All went as planned.”

“God be thanked.”

Indeed.

As Kate moved away from them, she crossed paths with Thomas Holme and his pretty wife. While sitting in Hazel’s chamber she’d had an idea.

“Might I borrow your husband for a moment, Catherine?” she asked.

A little nod, a dimpling smile. “Anything for you, cousin.” Indeed, she was a Frost, and, like her husband, patronized Kate’s guesthouse. Her lover was a cleric of independent means, a man who had won her heart long before she’d wed. “I will be listening to the lute-player,” she told Thomas, patting his hand.

“I have a plan that might shake Leif from his obsession,” Kate told Thomas when they were alone, “but I need your assistance. If you would make certain he is at your warehouse near the staithes tomorrow at midday. Dressed well. Tell him I wish to get to know him better, to see whether I agree with you about him suiting us as a factor. Dress is important.”

“Oh, indeed. But I thought we had already agreed–”

“All part of the plan, Thomas. And how are his accounting skills?”

“Excellent. But what–”

She smiled. “Trust me, you will be happy with the outcome.”

“Midday tomorrow.” He nodded and hurried off to his wife, who was eyeing Captain Crawford with interest.

Elric bowed to Dame Isabella and proceeded into the large hall, looking up and down the tables for Katherine. He found her, resplendent in red brocade, seated beside her cousin William. No one sat to her left, but Captain Crawford was fighting his way toward that tempting opening. Another time, Elric would concede the floor, let someone else play the fool for Katherine. But this was business. Pushing through the crowd, he watched with dismay as Crawford reached Katherine first. But she shook her head at the captain and, looking directly at Elric, beckoned for him to join her.