A Twisted Vengeance

The master began the guild meeting with a reading of the orders from Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, who was governing the realm on behalf of his nephew King Richard, while he was away on the Irish campaign. There was much repetition of “for the common good” and an emphasis on the importance of the city of York in the north. An influx of knights and armed men was not to anyone’s liking, yet their presence and the fortification of the walls provided a sense of control in such troubled times, so the merchants in the hall were largely quiet during the reading. But Lille and Ghent, sitting at Kate’s feet, stayed alert, sensing tension in the hall. And, though Kate realized the events of the morning had heightened her feeling of impending danger, the widespread frowns, guarded glances at neighbors, and postures gave witness to the growing agitation in the room. Once the clerk had read the orders, the guild master invited suggestions as to how the guild might support the defense efforts.

Kate had purposely taken a seat beside her neighbor Thomas Holme at the very end of a row of current and former aldermen. More unusual behavior – his custom was to sit toward the front of the room and never with this group. She might have been worried that she’d somehow offended him, but he’d greeted her with courtesy, asking about the barking of the dogs in the night. She’d hoped that he might have noticed something, but he had not.

“Poor Sister Dina,” he said. “I am glad that she sought safety at our parish church. I am not surprised that Magistra Matilda has stepped forward to help. As I told you, she grew fond of Dina in the short time the sisters lived at the maison dieu. Matilda fussed over the young woman, seeing how she jumped at every noise and avoided attention.” Thomas had founded the maison dieu beside the parish church on Castlegate years ago, and it had been at his generous invitation that the sisters had resided there for a brief time after arriving in York.

“I wish I knew whether Dina has cause to be so wary, or whether it is simply her nature,” said Kate.

“That was one of Magistra Matilda’s concerns,” said Thomas. “She asked whether Dame Eleanor knew the backgrounds of the three women, whether she had ensured they were appropriately devout or simply escaping unhappy or unsatisfying lives. Or worse.”

“Why worse?”

“It is her nature. Magistra Matilda is a formidable interrogator when considering a fresh recruit. She suspects that your mother simply stepped into one of the beguine communities, clapped her hands, and asked if anyone would like to accompany her to York.”

Though it was an apt depiction of her mother’s tendency to make hasty, careless decisions, Kate said, “It is my understanding that the sisters had undergone careful scrutiny in order to be accepted in their beguinage in Strasbourg.”

“To be sure. But Magistra Matilda does not approve of beguines. She has heard that the sisters might leave at any time to marry, and that some are permitted to return after having children – apostates in Magistra Matilda’s opinion. You recall how she insisted that Sister Brigida be accompanied by one of the other sisters when escorting your wards to the Frost household for lessons. Her lay order observes stricter rules.” He shrugged. “I believe her dislike of beguines arises from her dislike of anything never encountered in York.”

“Sister Clara says Matilda referred to them as the Saxon Lollards.”

Thomas gave a surprised laugh. “I’ve no doubt.”

“They follow the teachings of Meister Eckhart, I am told.” A Dominican scholar and philosopher who had taught in Strasbourg. “From what I have heard, his interpretation of Christ’s message lacks the darkness and asceticism of Magistra Matilda’s religion.”

“If they shared that with Magistra Matilda, it is no wonder she did not trust their devotion. Eckhart was denounced as a heretic.”

“I rather like what I’ve heard.”

“Never say that in the presence of Magistra Matilda.” He shook his head. “So what did Sister Dina have to say about her ordeal?”

“Nothing. Whatever happened, it has silenced her.” For the moment. Kate prayed that might be only temporary.

Each in the crowd seemed to have their own purpose in attending – to share unease about the growing military presence, to gossip, to complain. One guild member after another stood to recite stories of ships sighted in the mists along the coast of the North Sea and gangs of armed men on the roads, all heading north. There were those who believed Ravenspur had been the obvious landing place. No, no, more likely Bridlington. Ravenspur had no quay, the town had been largely abandoned as the sea encroached on the land. It must be Bridlington. More came round to that conclusion as their fellows listed the salient amenities: no castle to guard it, a quay at which to disembark and unload, and a town in which horses and men might find food and shelter as they awaited their exiled leader’s arrival from France.

“Dull-pated asses. Ravenspur or Bridlington, Bridlington or Ravenspur,” Thomas Holme muttered. “What matters is he’s landed in the north and he’s” – a glance at Kate, a cough – “too close to allow us to remain neutral. We know his ships paused at Cromer in Norfolk to take on supplies and more men. That is what we know.”

They knew now. There had been rumors of a landing in the southeast, at Pevensey, Sussex. Edmund, Duke of York, had gone to its defense only to discover there was no need, and that some of Henry’s ships had instead landed at Cromer, a Lancastrian estate in Norfolk, to take on supplies. The Lancastrian supporters had cleverly spread a misleading rumor.

Someone reported rumors that soldiers were heading west from Bridlington. Down the row, someone whispered, “Knaresborough. They have heard?”

Knaresborough. Had Henry of Lancaster already come so far inland? Kate was paying close attention to who spoke up, who kept a guarded silence, ordering them in her mind as to who was likely to side with King Richard or Henry of Lancaster – for that was the other matter stealing into the sharing, whether the city was wise to side with the king. “The king has not been so friendly of late.” That sent a ripple of consent down the row. Were the worthies of York secretly supporting the duke rather than the king?

All were agreed about who had landed, and most seemed quite certain as to Henry of Lancaster’s intention. Even before the arrival of the royal messenger, no one had doubted that he had come to claim the Lancastrian inheritance that his cousin, King Richard, had declared forfeit. The orders from Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, to raise troops and make repairs to the city defenses in preparation for war had merely verified the rumors.

“But Edmund of Langley is fond of his nephew Henry. If it comes to choosing sides …” Thomas Graa muttered with a shake of his head. Kate was glad of his low, easily distinguished voice. One of the wealthiest merchants in York, Graa knew the royal family, and his opinion mattered in the city. He had served the city as mayor, councilman, and, most recently, chamberlain, as well as representing York as a member of Parliament.