A Murdered Peace

“You have a gift for making people feel at home.” Elric lifted her hand with his, and kissed it as he held her gaze.

Confused by her feelings, Kate was relieved when Elric glanced away, startled by Wulf’s lurching attempt to rise, almost bringing the table down with him. His fellows steadied the furniture as Wulf weaved toward the door muttering something about the privy.

“You’ve forgotten your boots,” Kevin called out, rising to fetch them.

He’d not quite reached Wulf when the man flung wide the door and staggered back, wind and snow buffeting him and setting the flames dancing in the tapers. “Boots. I forgot my boots.”

“Close the door you mutton-headed wastrel,” Douglas roared.

Kevin nudged his drunk companion out of the way and shut the door. “Sit on the bench, you sot.” When Wulf was safely grounded, Kevin handed him his boots.

Elric apologized to Kate. “I think it is time we departed, while my men can still manage snowy streets.” He shifted his long legs and rose. “I almost forgot. In your message inviting me to this celebration you mentioned that you had information?”

“I do. Perhaps you might see the others away, then return for a quiet talk?”

He nodded as he turned to see to his men.

Douglas had risen and collared Stephen, who had been reaching for some figs, pulling him up out of his chair. “May God bless you and keep you, Mistress Clifford,” said Douglas. “A splendid meal – more than we deserve.” He growled at Wulf, who teetered near the door.

Stephen bowed gracefully. “My deepest gratitude for the feast and your gracious presence, my lady.”

Elric hid his laughter with a cough as Kevin came back round to thank her.

“Have a care with Marie,” she warned.

Kevin laughed. “I promise not to pledge my troth.” Leaning close, he whispered, “Your secrets are safe with me, always.”

“My dear friend,” she smiled her gratitude.

Kate found herself avoiding Elric’s eyes as she saw the men out, flustered by their exchange. As soon as the door closed behind the men, Seth came out from the kitchen. He paused at the sideboard with a laugh.

“They ate most of it,” said Kate. “Feel free to eat what’s left, though it won’t fill you.”

“Griselde had the foresight to set some aside for me and our guest. She’ll be pleased. She enjoys cooking for hearty eaters.”

“Sir Elric and his squire will be back,” said Kate. “Let our guest know that she cannot yet come out.”

Seth nodded. “Brandywine, nuts, figs. Will that suffice?”

“More than enough.”

Elric followed his men as they slipped and slid through the drifting snow while supporting their drunk companion. Wulf would lose his balance and topple into the soft snow, and with much jeering and laughter they would pull him up, steady him, and trudge on, only to repeat it several steps later. At least they had no witnesses. Between Kate’s guesthouse and his men’s lodging on Stonegate Elric encountered no one else foolish enough to be out in the storm. At last they arrived at their destination, Harry doing the honors of knocking on the door to rouse the landlord. Stephen and Douglas gave up on Wulf and simply dragged him inside, their landlord shaking his head and muttering about soldiers who could not hold their drink. Sir Elric gave him a few pence for his trouble and a promise that he would keep them far too busy to enjoy another such evening while Wulf sang Dame Katherine’s praises.

Back out on the street, Elric, Kevin, and Harry drew their cloaks tight and trudged back down toward Petergate.

“Do you feel well feted, Kevin?” Elric asked.

Kevin laughed. “Oh, it was my night? Somehow it seemed Wulf’s.”

Harry slapped him on the back.

“Dame Katherine is a wonder, is she not?” said Kevin.

“She is,” Elric said, with heart. He had never encountered such a woman. Katherine Clifford knew just how to be with the men, putting them at ease, yet not too familiar. They respected and admired her.

As did he, though upon his first glimpse of her several years earlier on the arm of her late husband, Simon Neville, he had imagined that she would prove as tedious as most merchant’s wives, more interested in impressing the other guests than in engaging in conversation. It had been Elric’s first Christmas at Sheriff Hutton Castle. He’d been named captain of the earl’s guard at the castle at Michaelmas. Simon and Katherine had arrived the day before the Christmas feast, she swathed in a fur-lined cloak and accompanied by a brace of war dogs – ridiculous for the wife of a city merchant – he dressed likewise and seemingly concerned that there was snow on the ground and their fine boots would be ruined. When Katherine was relieved of her cloak by a servant, the extravagant silk and velvet gown in a red veering dangerously toward royal purple, her dark hair swept up in a silver crispinette powdered with pearls and emeralds, he found it difficult to look away, and she noticed, studying him with frank interest. A pampered pet tugging at her leash, eager to stray, he had thought. When she watched with unusual intensity his swordplay demonstration, and later surprised him with knowledgeable questions about his technique, he thought it flirtation, or perhaps a ploy to inflame an indifferent spouse. Though how any man could be indifferent to her he could not fathom. Not that she was the most beautiful woman at the feast – her features were too bold for that – but there was a vitality about her that stirred his imagination.