A Twisted Vengeance

In the early morning, as the sun woke the countryside, Kate rode back to York deafened by the storm in her mind, Berend silently leading, the hounds flanking her. Her uncle had been unable to answer all her questions, and Sir Alan had not bothered to learn much about his mission. He served William – Baron Roos – and obeyed his commands. Why would he question them? He had used the Duke of York’s call to arms as the perfect cover in which to complete the task of revenge against Ulrich and the retainers and servants who had assisted him in his spying.

Sir Alan had ridden out before Kate and Berend had broken their fast. He and his men would join the companies supporting Duke Henry, riding westward to confront King Richard. Archbishop Scrope saw no point in charging him. The man with blood on his hands was already dead. Griffin, the instrument, would be buried in an unmarked grave.

“An assassin knows his fate,” Berend had said. “Rage all you wish, Dame Katherine, I understand, but Griffin himself would tell you that you waste your breath. God will judge Sir Alan, his men, the Cliffords, the Rooses, in his own time, his own way. The law sees only the murderer.”

“And what of me?”

“You were the law in this instance. The archbishop of York sent you out with his blessing.”

Kate wished she might have drunk until she was so numb she fell into a blessed forgetfulness. But she had work to do. Questions that must be answered. She had talked to Sir Alan after her long walk with the hounds, wanting to hear his version. He confirmed that Griffin’s primary reason for pursuing Eleanor to York was to recover the gold. It was not enough to have murdered Ulrich and all his retainers; the Cliffords wanted the gold with which he had been rewarded by the French for his spying. Not finding it in Strasbourg, he believed Eleanor had it and would lead him to it. Hans and Werner might have knowledge of it. When they proved ignorant, Griffin had no more use of them and carried out their sentences.

Where was the gold? Was her mother still in danger?

Both the archbishop and her uncle assured Kate that Baron Roos would be exposed and ruined should any harm come to her or Dame Eleanor. But with such uncertainty in the land, Kate did not see how they could be so certain of their own future power.

At the sign of an alewife, a bushel basket on a pole in the yard of a small farm close to York, she and Berend paused to water Lille and Ghent and their mounts, and to refresh themselves.

“It is good to be free of Sir Elric and his men, eh?”

Kate was moved by how Berend had put aside his mood to engage her, draw her out of her dark study. But he had chosen an unwelcome topic. She was not ready to tell Berend of her arrangement with Elric. How after meeting with her uncle and the archbishop she had sought out Elric in the stables and invited him for a twilight walk in the gardens. As soon as they were far enough that no one might overhear them, she asked how much he knew about Griffin’s mission. He was hesitant at first to admit how much he had managed to learn while at the palace, but she persisted in her questioning until he confessed that he knew all of it. At another time she would have cursed him, but at present she was relieved.

“My mother will not be safe until Baron Roos possesses Ulrich Smit’s gold.”

“And you have a plan.”

“I agree to be the earl’s eyes and ears in York if your men in the city are my eyes and ears regarding anyone too curious about my mother, her Martha House, or my household. And, if I have need of them, your men will summon support from Sheriff Hutton Castle.”

“And the letters?”

“I will see what I might discover about them.”

He had smiled. “Agreed. I look forward to a long and interesting partnership.”

They would see about that. If Lancaster prevailed, Westmoreland might have need of Sir Elric elsewhere. He might never return to his post at Sheriff Hutton. And if King Richard prevailed, there was no predicting Westmoreland’s fate and that of his properties.

This morning, while Berend had prepared their horses, Kate had bid farewell to Sir Elric in the palace yard. He and his men were off to the northwest, to Raby. He had kissed her hand, and again expressed his delight in their partnership.

“We have an agreement, Sir Elric, not a partnership.”

He’d bowed. “As you wish. But I can hope.”

She had not told Berend. Not in his present mood.

Now, in answer to his question about her relief in being free of Elric, she said, “I am grateful for all his help. But it is good to be heading home, just you, me, Lille, and Ghent.” She emptied her cup, called the alewife’s son over to refill it.

“Steady now, we are not yet within the gates of the city,” he warned.

She hardly felt the effects of the ale, though it tasted strong.

“What are you stewing over?” he asked.

“How could we all be so fooled by Ulrich Smit? He was an honored guest in our house. I named Lille and Ghent for the cities he told us about. Mother loved Ulrich. She took him as her lover long before Father’s death. Father’s murder,” she whispered those last words.

“Clearly the man excelled in his work. Which is why the French paid him so well.”

“The gold. Where is the gold?”

“Dame Eleanor is resourceful.”

“She is indeed. That is what worries me.”

Berend rubbed his shoulder, stretched. “We should continue.”

“Wait.” Kate put her hand on his and looked into his eyes. “I am sorry, Berend. I would not have you suffer the pain this has stirred for you.”

“I could not let you deal with this alone.”

They studied each other for a long while, then withdrew their hands and split the rest of the tankard.

“Katherine! You stayed the night at the archbishop’s palace! You must tell me all about it.” Eleanor reached out to embrace her, but Kate slipped out of her reach. She had something she must do before she spoke to her mother.

Ignoring the questions, the protests, Kate stormed up the steps and into the bedchamber of the beguines, startling Sister Dina, who had been resting with a cloth over her eyes.

Kate stepped back, remembering herself. “Forgive me. I was so intent on my mission, I did not think to knock.” A gray gown with as yet a solitary sleeve lay on a table by the window. The dimensions were for someone wide and short. “Are you making this for Agnes?”

Removing the cloth from her eyes, Sister Dina sat up. “I do this for her, yes. Did you know – her mother was a – how is it – a midwife? She knows plants, physic – no, medicines.” She nodded, whispering the last word again. Her accent was still thick, but her vocabulary much improved. “We learn much about what we might find here, in city and out in country. We are grateful.”

“And Dame Eleanor?”

Dina made a little face. “She struggles to accept her, but I have hope? Faith.” She nodded. “She will see. Agnes will prove to her. And Nan.”

“Nan has been welcomed back into the household?”

Dina nodded. “Rose is happy.”

Much had transpired since Kate was away. A day and a night. Was that all?

“What do you seek, Dame Katherine? Griffin – The messenger said–”

“Griffin is dead. I made sure of that. Judge me as you will–” Kate closed her eyes. Perhaps she had drunk too much, to barge in here and then say that to Dina. “Forgive me.”