A Murdered Peace

A late afternoon nap with the girls revived Kate and seemed a comfort to them. They had felt responsible for endangering Hazel’s health, fearing they had caused her too much excitement.

Kate assured them that was not true. “Remember how she laughed, how she enjoyed every moment, sending you out to see more, bring back more stories. Your visit yesterday brought her joy.”

Marie woke from her nap with a plan – to persuade Phillip to carve a likeness of Hazel as an angel for her tomb.

Petra crossed herself and warned Marie against planning a tomb before a death. “She will return to haunt you. Old Mapes said so.”

What about if the person planned their own memorial? Kate wondered, thinking of Ross Wheeldon.

Now, at twilight, Sister Brigida sat with the girls in the kitchen, helping them compose a letter to their friend. Her companion, Sister Agnes, busied herself making a calming tisane for the girls and preparing a stew for the next day. Matt and Cuddy had gone on errands. All was well in the household. Leaving Petra and Marie in the beguines’ loving care, Kate collected Lille and Ghent and went to the hall to work at her loom while she waited for Jennet. If all went as planned, she would soon be searching the Wheeldon home.

Trying to still her mind, she remembered her mother saying that the beguines approached all that they did as prayer, offering up all effort to God for the benefit of others. Kate gathered the fine colors and sat for a while staring at the pattern emerging on the loom, choosing which colors would be prayers for Berend, which for Margery, which for Hazel. When she had settled that, she took a deep breath and began. Her hands steadied as she worked. Sensing her deepening quiet, Lille and Ghent moved from the fire to settle nearby, out of her way as she worked the shuttles, but close. The work warmed her, and the prayers absorbed her.

Later, when Lille and Ghent rose to greet Jennet, Kate felt as if she were waking from a trance. Her body ached a little, but a glance at the loom confirmed that was reasonable – she had worked a long while. Hours.

“Well?” She poured ale for both of them and settled on one of the chairs by the fire, handing a bowl to Jennet. She stood with her back to the fire, letting her skirts dry, while she took a long drink of ale. Her face was red from the cold, but her eyes shone.

“Look in my scrip,” she said.

Kate lifted the bag sitting on the other high-backed chair, and opened it. A gold brooch – “Jennet, this is the one Pendleton described.”

A satisfied grin. “Seems Horner gave her the brooch despite knowing it was stolen.”

Kate was excited. Also in the scrip was the mate to the glove she had found in the room where Horner died. “I might have left it lie there,” she whispered to herself.

“But you didn’t,” said Jennet. “Most importantly, you’ll find by the door a box of tally sticks and accounts going back several years, showing how Dame Cecily had been siphoning off money Master Ross believed he was investing in property, through Horner, by way of Master Ross’s clerk. Evidently Horner had information about the clerk, wanted for theft in Lincoln. And, in that sack by the door that the hounds find so menacing, a gown stained by blood – a lot of it, and vomit.”

“All that? Were you seen?”

Jennet made a face. “Henna has a heavy tread, and a maidservant came up to see who was in her mistress’s chamber. But when she saw Henna – I was behind the door – she just asked her not to do anything she would be blamed for by ‘the whore’ and left.”

“Beloved by all.” Kate rose. “How late is it?”

“Matt is walking Sister Brigida back to the Martha House and the girls look ready for bed. I took it upon myself to have him call at Sheriff Wrawby’s home to ask that he meet you here shortly after dawn, to catch a murderer.”

About to protest such certainty, Kate smiled at herself. The dress did seem damning. “You are a marvel, Jennet. I cannot think what else we might do to prepare before dawn, so I’ll to bed. An early night would be welcome.”

The morning dawned with a hard frost and the scent of snow, though none yet fell. As Kate stepped into the kitchen she paused, her heart quickening. Elric sat with Jennet and Matt, listening to their accounts of the previous day’s discoveries. His jacket was not as clean as was his wont, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, but he was here.

He glanced up, nodded to her.

“How do you come to be here? Did you escape?” Kate asked.

“I would like to hear that as well,” said Sheriff Wrawby, joining Kate in the doorway. “Did that fool Sir Peter finally see reason?”

“Not as such,” said Elric. “Mayor Frost has a backbone. He said he might not be able to help his child, but he would be damned if he would let an incompetent jeopardize the city’s relationship with the Earl of Westmoreland. He released me and said he would deal with Sir Peter. Who is no longer biding in their home, by the way. Dame Isabella sent them to Micklegate Priory. Sawyer and Parr as well. She permitted me to spend the night, locked in the shed in which Crawford had stuffed me.”

“She might have done better for you,” Wrawby growled. “But I am much relieved to hear that about Frost. I feared he would prove the king’s toady.”

Elric rose. “Are we ready? Harry and Douglas are at the guesthouse, ready to detain Dame Cecily if she leaves before we arrive.”

“Cecily Wheeldon?” Wrawby gave a little whistle. “Are we also going to find that she hurried my friend Ross’s death?”

“One accusation at a time,” Kate warned. “I must make a stop in Stonegate before I join you.”

Elric and Wrawby chose to go straight to the guesthouse.

At the silversmith’s Kate was rewarded with an excited nod.

“That is it, my sister’s brooch,” said Pendleton. “Might I have it?”

“Soon. Very soon.”

Satisfied, Kate continued on with Lille and Ghent, joining the sheriff and Elric at the table in the guesthouse hall, the door ajar so they could watch the steps. Seth was in the kitchen with Griselde and Clement, and Harry and Douglas were out in the alleyway beneath the stairs. All ready for Leif and Cecily to appear on the landing.

At last the footsteps. Cautious, light. It would be Cecily. Leif would have no cause to depart quite so early, and certainly not before Cecily. He would wait to make certain she encountered no trouble from Griselde. Lille and Ghent sat up, sensing the interest in the hall. Wrawby rose and quietly moved to the door. As Cecily reached the bottom step, the sheriff called out to her.

“Dame Cecily, if you would be so kind as to step inside.”

“What? Sheriff Wrawby? Oh, my dear man, it is not what you think.” With a little laugh she stepped to the door, but retreated as soon as she saw Kate and Elric. She turned to hurry away, but found Douglas and Harry blocking her escape. Face flushed, she demanded they let her pass.

Sheriff Wrawby repeated his request, his tone sharper than before.

With a dramatic sigh Cecily marched up to Wrawby, forcing him to take a step backward. “Explain yourself,” she demanded.

Quickly regaining his composure, he gestured toward the items displayed on the table – the soiled gown, the opened box of accounts, the brooch. “It is you who must explain, Dame Cecily.”