A Murdered Peace
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: A Kate Clifford Mystery #3
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus Books
- ISBN: 9781681779270
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «A Murdered Peace». Краткое содержание книги:
England still in tumult at the start of the fifteenth century, as Kate Clifford finds herself working to prove the innocence of her longtime confidante.
It is deep winter in York, 1400, the ground frozen, the short days dimmed with the smoke from countless fires, the sun, when it shines, low in the sky. It is rumored that the Epiphany Uprising, meant to relieve the realm of the Henry the usurper and return King Richard to the throne has, instead, spelled his doom. As long as Richard lives, he is a threat to Henry. So, too, the nobles behind the plot. The ringleaders have been caught, some slaughtered as they fled west by folk loyal to Henry, and the king's men now search the towns for survivors.
A perilous time, made worse for Kate Clifford by the disappearance of Berend, her cook and confidante, shortly after Christmas. Her niece saw his departure in a dream – he said he was honor bound to leave. Honor bound – to a former lord? One of the nobles who led the uprising? Is he alive? She is hardly consoled when Berend reappears, wounded, secretive, denying any connection to the uprising, but refusing to explain himself. When he is accused of brutally murdering a spice seller in the city, Kate discovers a chest of jewels in his possession. Some of the jewels belong to her old friend Lady Margery, wanted by the king for her husband’s part in the uprising. For the sake of their long friendship, and the love she and her wards bear for him, Kate wants to believe his innocence. So, too, does Sir Elric. And he has the powerful backing of the Earl of Westmoreland. All she need do is confide in him. If only she trusted her heart.
But Thomas scoffed. “Young fool should be grateful. I have told him to stand up and be a man. He will come round. He has met with Clement to go over your accounts?”
“He has, but Clement is wary of showing him too much. Will Leif try to retaliate?”
“I have made it clear to him that if he does not put this behind him I will change my will. He has assured me that he holds no grudge.”
“That is his head speaking. But what of his heart?”
“He’s an ambitious young man. Already he’s looking round at the daughters of the aldermen.”
Elric had been gone a week when Kevin rode into the city bearing the abbot of Cirencester’s response. That evening William Frost called on her. “I have received a letter from John Leckhampton, the abbot of St. Mary’s in Cirencester.”
“I have as well. Or, rather, Kevin has shown me the one sent to Sheriff Hutton Castle.” Kate invited William in.
The abbot of Cirencester Abbey offered his condolences to Berend, “should you see him,” on the death of his old friend Warren, the bastard son of Baron Montagu. He claimed Warren had chosen his fate, venturing into the town and right into the hands of King Henry’s men.
“What do you think?” Kate asked William as she poured wine. “Is the abbot honest?”
“I doubt it. I think he was fearful lest King Henry not support him against the townsfolk who have petitioned to be free of the abbey’s control, so he handed him over, violating the rules of sanctuary.”
“The abbey’s control?”
“The citizens of Cirencester have long contested the charter the abbey holds, giving it the rule of the city and much of the surrounding countryside. They claim an earlier charter granted them the right to rule, much as the one King Richard granted York. When the earls of Salisbury and Kent fled to Cirencester, the townsfolk saw their opportunity to ingratiate themselves with King Henry by slaughtering the rebels. No doubt the abbot thought that by giving up Salisbury’s half-brother he would show the king that he, too, rejected the rebels, but in a lawful manner.” He coughed. “Though one could argue that violating sanctuary is not lawful.”
Kate stared into the fire. Berend had saved Montagu’s bastard twice. Once from Pontefract, as the abbot had recounted to Kevin, once from King Henry’s wrath. He would mourn him. Would he blame himself? Who had chosen the abbey? She might never know. There was so much she might never know. “Have you any news of Captain Crawford’s hunt for Lady Kirkby?” she asked.
“No. Have you?”
“Why would I?”
“Berend?” William held her gaze. “I know what you did, you and Sir Elric. Cottesbrok and Wrawby confided in me.”
“They did? I hope they waited until after–”
“They did. Once they could see that I had taken up my duties.”
“I have heard nothing.”
“Had you known that Berend escorted Montagu’s bastard to sanctuary?” William asked.
“No.” But of course she had guessed that he was hiding something. Margery as well. In his letter, the abbot denied any meeting with Thomas Kirkby, any letter of safe passage. But that, too, might be for the benefit of his relationship with the crown.
“Do you doubt the wisdom of helping Berend?” William asked.
“No. He condemned the plot against the king and his sons. I do not doubt that. He answered the call of his lord’s son, honoring the memory of the man who helped him in his darkest time, who believed in him.”
“And Lady Kirkby?”
“No. Not at all. I am sick of women being punished for their husbands’ foolishness.”
William raised his eyebrows in surprise, but said only, “Sir Elric said much the same about both Berend and Lady Kirkby. Have you word from him?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you? Might I ask– Sir Elric loves you, you know, though he seems hesitant to surrender to his heart.”
She did know. On Elric’s last night in York she had invited him to dine at the guesthouse, intending to speak to him of her regret, to apologize, ask how she might make amends. That he’d accepted the invitation gave her hope that he was willing to listen. But the evening almost ended before it began. It seemed he had expected to dine in the hall, and when she had taken his hand to lead him up the stairs to the large chamber on the first floor, he had backed away from her, his eyes flinty.
She knew that look, and softened her voice as she would with the children when they needed reassurance. “I do not mean to seduce you, Elric. I merely want time with you without interruption, to enjoy a conversation before your departure, to speak of our friends near and far …” She stopped as she sensed her voice about to catch, already missing him, fearing for him, sick with remorse for her part in causing his lord’s anger.
It worked. He had followed her then, albeit grudgingly, not relaxing until he beheld the elegantly set table. Griselde and Marie had outdone themselves, with help from Henna.
While they ate they spoke of her cousin William’s courage, Hazel’s funeral, what Elric expected of his meeting with Westmoreland, the small shop about to open in the storefront on her home on Low Petergate, the promising cook Henna had recommended for Sheriff Hutton, anything but the two of them. They avoided the heart of their differences – trust. Until she poured the brandywine and set out the spiced nuts.
“I am grateful for this chance to explain how I came to shelter Lady Margery. Carl came to me just as the gates–”
Elric interrupted her. “I know. I understand why you helped your friend, Katherine. I would have done the same.”
“Then why have you been punishing me ever since I confessed all I knew?”
“Punishing you? I had been behaving as if–” He seemed to search for words. “My heart had misled me.” He met her eyes, and she caught her breath at the tenderness of his regard. His heart. “You are a remarkable woman, Katherine. Faith, you would make a fine captain of men.” He laughed, but his eyes did not. “I wanted– It does not matter. Forgive me if I have seemed to be punishing you.”
His awkward speech disarmed her. She, too, was at a loss about what to say. Arguments were easier than declarations of love. Or lust, if she was honest.
Time for me to leave, Geoff whispered. Speak to him. You both deserve joy.
“You thought I might love you?” Kate asked.
“I am not the first man to play the fool in love, and I will not be the last. At least I did not act on it.”
“A pity,” Kate murmured as she refilled their cups.
“What?”
“We might at least toast our success in freeing Berend and Lady Margery.”
“Indeed.” He tapped her cup and drank his down. “You are a master strategist.”
“I’d wondered whether you’d noticed.”
“Have I not celebrated how well it went?”
“Celebrated? Not with me. I had expected some expression of gratitude.”
“Is that why you poured such a stingy amount? I am grateful, Katherine. For all you did.”
“Now who is being stingy?”
He threw up his hands. “I am at a loss.”
“Are you? What if your heart did not mislead you?” She rose, stepping behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. When he twisted round to see what she was about, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. “I have yearned to do that,” she whispered, crouching down beside him, looking up into his widening eyes.
He touched her cheek. “Katherine?”
She learned toward him for another kiss, but he drew back, studying her face as if seeking a clue as to her sincerity.
“I feared I had lost any chance of being with you,” she said. “That night, celebrating Kevin’s recovery– I woke up to what I feel for you.”