The Service of the Dead

She briefly told the couple that William was to remove the body by midday, and suggested how they might clean the floor and rid the room of the odor. “Sam will stay to stand guard. He was a soldier for a short while before entering Simon’s service, so he knows how to defend himself and you.”

Outside, William was asking Sam to wait and serve to witness the removal of the body.

“He will remain here until Lady Kirkby arrives tomorrow,” Kate said as she stepped out. She suspected that by then Seth could manage without Sam. He would have Lady Margery’s servants to assist him. She took up Lille’s and Ghent’s leads. “The new servant should arrive soon, Sam. You know him – Seth, the Fletchers’ youngest. Keep him busy until the body is gone. And tell Griselde and Clement to make up some tale about the mess in the chamber.” She had forgotten to mention that to them.

“You can trust it to me, mistress.”

“I know. God bless you, Sam.”

Seeing that William was headed for the hall door, Kate blocked his way. “Leave them.”

“I would talk to the goodwife.”

“No. You are to leave them in peace. Go now. You have much to do by midday.” She took him firmly by the arm and escorted him out to the street.

“I swear to you that I will take care of it all,” he said. “You will hear no more of it.”

“There will be consequences, William. Your guest had a visitor you had not foreseen. He has been murdered. Alice may have witnessed it. Whoever committed the crime might decide to silence her, you, Griselde, or Clement – consequences, cousin.”

“Trust me, Katherine. If anything comes to light, I will make certain that your name is clear. I have influence in this city. More than you know.”

His influence had not protected his guest. “The body, William. By sext.”

“Ingrate woman,” he muttered as he strode off to do her bidding, his breath visible as puffs of fog in the frigid morning.

He brought on such trouble and expected her to trust him, and to express gratitude? Shaking her head, Kate hurried home with Lille and Ghent, formulating a plan to send Jennet to Joan del Bek’s bawdy house on Goodramgate to ask after Alice Hatten, who had lived there a few years earlier. Joan’s women serviced the vicars choral living in the Bedern, the dean and chapter largely turning a blind eye to her business – anything to keep the vicars out of the taverns and off the streets. Unfortunately, Joan guessed the flavor of Kate’s little business and considered her a threat to her trade. So Kate could hardly expect to learn anything from the woman. Nor did she want to begin rumors of a connection to such a house. She would dress Jennet such that no one would recognize her as Kate’s servant. Yes. Satisfied with her plan, she hummed to herself to lift her mood so that she might manage to nod and smile to acquaintances along Stonegate, down Coney Street, and on to Castlegate. But Lille and Ghent, alert to every unusual noise, were not fooled by her false cheer. Some folk gave her a wide berth.

Once back in her own kitchen, Kate could not disguise her heavy heart. A man was dead. Someone who waited for him would wait and wait, perhaps never knowing what had become of him. So many times up on the borders in Northumberland she and her mother had sat huddled by the fire late into the night, waiting for her father and her brothers to return. Generations of enmity between families loyal to the Scots crown versus the English crown had created the habit of violence. A stray lamb crossing the invisible border became a call to arms, and, far too often, the death of at least one son beloved of his family. One night it had been her brother Roland, whom the men brought home draped across his horse. Roland, whose fingers had flown along the harp he loved so well, whose voice was that of an angel, who could charm the devil himself.

But it was his battle-axe that was valued. He’d perished in a bloody altercation over who owned the wool in a cart overturned by a rockfall – at least, that was the immediate provocation. Kate, too, wielded an axe with skill, trained to aim for the backs of the knees or the groin if a neck was out of reach, and to finish it with a blow to the neck when her opponent had toppled. All those from the wrong side of the border were enemies, not human beings.

And then one night it had been Geoff.

No matter how long it had been since she sat and waited for news, Kate could still remember that icy dread in her stomach, how she had known, the dark hole spreading in her mind.

She prayed that the dead man had no kin awaiting his return. But surely he did. Perhaps she could tease a name from William and find a way to get word to the dead man’s kin without bringing trouble on herself or her cousin. Perhaps she had the courage to do that.