A Murdered Peace Page 3

  It helped matters that Sir Elric was the very embodiment of knighthood in his physique, his skill at arms, and his courtly manner, as well as being one of the most handsome men she had ever set eyes on. Too bad his arrogant self-regard spoiled it.

  But not always . . . When they laughed together she saw a vulnerable, quite likable side to him.

  Is that why Berend had left without a word? She’d had good reason not to tell him of her agreement with Sir Elric at first. Helping Kate chase down an assassin the previous summer had brought to the surface memories of darker days, a past for which Berend had done much penance and from which he had hoped he might redeem his soul. When Kate had sought his advice about how such assassins operated she had unwittingly plunged Berend into a darkness, seemingly overwhelmed by his memories of hunting down the enemies of the powerful. By the time Kate realized that it might be a long while before he walked clear of his shadows, she had not known how to tell him about her bargain with Elric. So it was that Berend asked how she could be laughing with the man she swore she could never trust, never befriend.

  A forceful knock startled Kate from her thoughts. As her manservant Seth moved past her to admit the guests he whispered that the new servant was spending the evening beneath Griselde and Clement’s bed, just in case one of the men chanced to step out to the kitchen. Carl had still not appeared.

  “Pray God he does not arrive in the midst of this celebration,” Kate whispered.

  “If he does, I will loudly berate him for coming too late to help with the evening’s event,” said Seth.

  “Good man.”

  He grinned and opened the door.

  “What a night!” Sir Elric exclaimed as he shook his head and stomped the snow off his boots before stepping up to the threshold. He filled the doorway, face ruddy with cold, eyes bright in the lamplight. His fur-lined cloak was thrown back over one shoulder to allow access to his sword, a leather-gloved hand resting on the carved hilt, his hair, shoulders, and boots dusted with snow.

  Armed? Well, of course he was, riding through the Forest of Galtres, and in such an unsettled time.

  “It was good of you to come in such a storm,” she said. “I would have understood if you chose not to make the journey.”

  “How could I miss such a celebration?” He stepped aside, gesturing to the five men crowding in behind him and lining up just within the doorway—Kevin, Douglas, Stephen, Wulf, and Elric’s squire Harry.

  Kate welcomed them and motioned for Seth to assist them with their boots.

  Douglas waved him away with a laugh. “Many thanks, but we’re accustomed to seeing to ourselves.”

  Elric, however, settled on a bench just inside the door and wagged a booted foot. “Harry.” The young man bobbed his head to Kate, then dropped to his knees to unlace his captain’s high leather boots. The leg released from the high boots was clad in dark green wool leggings. A fine, strong leg. Kate was glad Elric was too busy to notice her watching him.

  Griselde bustled in with a tray laden with hot dishes, which she placed on a brazier set up near the fire to keep the food warm, as she would soon be leaving to see to the supper of Kate’s wards. With Berend away and the children now so near, she enjoyed fussing over them with special meals. Indeed, earlier in the day she had chosen treats for the children at the market, an attempt to soften the blow of Kevin’s departure. She nodded to everyone and headed back to the kitchen for more items.

  “Dame Griselde could use your help,” Kate said to Seth.

  He nodded and hurried off to the kitchen.

  Leaving his men struggling with their own high boots, Elric crossed the chamber and placed his near the fire circle to dry, then peeked at the food. Griselde had prepared for them a variety of dishes—sliced venison in a spicy sauce and eel in cream, two pies stuffed with cheese, nuts, and onions, a salty bread, roasted nuts, and figs.

  “You think of everything,” said Elric.

  “I run a guesthouse.” She smiled. “Had I known the weather would turn I would have suggested another date.”

  “I’ve ridden through much worse. As have you, I imagine, growing up on the northern border.”

  “I have, but only when it could not be avoided. Father did not like us risking the horses.” She noticed that Elric’s men now stood near the doorway in their stockinged feet. “Come, put your boots by the fire and then take a seat. If two of you might put the pies and bread on the table, then Seth will serve the hot dishes.”

  Elric surprised her by choosing the chair that would put his back to the door. A gesture of trust? As the food was set on the table he rubbed his hands together. “A feast for the eyes. Berend’s work?”

  “Not tonight, not here.” Kate brought several flagons of wine to the table as the men settled. “This is Griselde’s domain, and she is quite a good cook.”

  “I’ve not seen Berend since my return,” said Elric. He had ridden with the earl in the army led by Henry of Lancaster in summer, then accompanied his lord to Westminster for the deliberations about the fate of the deposed king and the crowning. He had not returned to Sheriff Hutton until after Christmas. “Is your cook away?”

  “On a brief mission for me.” Kate prayed that she was safe in trusting Kevin not to tell his captain that Berend’s departure was unplanned, that she did not know where he was. “Wine?”

  “Of course. We must toast Kevin’s recovery.”

  As her guest helped himself to a slice of the pie and several pieces of venison, Kate took a few sips of wine to calm herself. She had managed her explanations smoothly, she thought. And the delight on Elric’s face as he tasted the pie bode well. She filled her own plate and took a bite of the venison; Berend’s tutelage had vastly improved Griselde’s skill, particularly in blending spices. And now Kevin and his fellows fell to. For a while the party spoke mostly about the food, the men declaring it better even than the hearty fare at the York Tavern.

  “Why is such a splendid cook wasting her talents managing a guesthouse for lovers?” asked Elric. “Griselde and Clement might like spending their elder years away from the bustle of the city.”

  “My regular guests often request suppers much like this. I presume Sheriff Hutton Castle still needs a cook?”

  “We do indeed. Since our former cook’s departure we have depended on one of the men who is a tolerable cook in the field, when we are desperate, but he can ruin even the finest venison. And as for something such as this pie—he would not know how to begin.”

  “A pity,” said Kate. “And you’ve found no one?”

  “The castle is remote and the regular occupants soldiers and servants; only occasionally is the cook called upon to prepare a feast for more discerning palates.” Elric shrugged. “For a while the wife of one of the earl’s tenants took pity on us and assisted with dinner a few days a week. With the purpose of teaching our cook his trade. Things improved for a while, but he did not see the point of all the effort and sank back into his slovenly ways. She refused to return.” A pause as he cut another piece of the pie and spooned up more of the creamed eel. “Berend would be a good fit for us. Not many women about, so a man is more appropriate. Griselde could surely cook for your household as well as this one.” He glanced up from his food to see her reaction.

  She laughed. “I agreed to provide you with information valuable to your earl, not share my household staff.”

  “I can but try. You said he was away on an errand?”

  “Yes. And he is missed. Phillip is a picky eater and Griselde’s cooking does not tempt him as Berend’s does. Though he is free to eat with us only on Sundays, Phillip had so looked forward to it.”

  Elric nodded. “Growing lads need fuel. Phillip is Hugh Grantham’s apprentice now, the master mason at the minster, is he not? Is it official?”

  “He is, and yes, it is official, to his joy.”

  “A fine lad. How long will Berend be away?”

  Kevin cleared his throat loudly, nodding as Kate and Sir Elric looked hi
s way. “You might talk of cooks another time. Is this not my night? Are we not here to drink to my health and welcome me back into the company of my comrades?”

  “Your comrades have made some progress in drinking to your health already,” Elric noted. But he laughed and raised his cup. “To Kevin.”

  Silently blessing Kevin for distracting his captain, Kate rose to pour all more wine. After several rounds of toasts, including to Brother Martin’s healing hands and Kate, the men broke out in bawdy songs. Douglas’s barrel chest produced a deep baritone, Kevin carried the tune with Harry’s help, Stephen went high in harmony. Wulf, drunker than his fellows, kept time drumming on his thighs.

  As Kate cleared the empty platters and moved the roasted nuts and figs to the center of the table she felt buoyed by the men’s wild spirits, familiar from her childhood, with all her brothers and her father’s retainers at the long table in the hall, singing, playing fiddles, pipes, drums. She would often twirl and twirl, dancing until she was dizzy and too hot to go on. Her brother Geoff often joined her, and once they were slick with sweat they would dash out into the cold night, running, running, the hounds chasing them.

  You do not often remember the good times, Geoff said in her mind.

  Is there danger? she silently asked him.

  I sense none except for the hidden lady. You are in the company of those who would keep you safe.

  Then I conjured you with the memory of joy. She smiled to herself.

  “He will eat them all before we’ve a chance to taste them!” Stephen cried as he dragged the platter of figs and roasted nuts out of Kevin’s reach.

  Kate laughed. Kevin had eaten quite a few. They were clearly more to his taste than the wine. She had noticed that although he lifted his cup with every toast, his sips were modest. Good. She counted on him to keep a clear head and be discreet.

  Elric leaned toward her as she resumed her seat. “I cannot recall when I last saw my men so merry. I will not soon forget your warm hospitality. I hope it has not caused problems.”

  “Not at all.” She touched his hand. “Kevin risked everything to protect Dina that night and we are grateful.”

  Elric closed his other hand over hers, sending a flush of warmth through her body. There was no denying the attraction, though she would be damned if she was about to let down her guard. Berend and Simon had taught her to tread warily with men.

  “How does one ever repay such a selfless act?” she whispered.

  “You have already done so with your care. You not only gave Kevin shelter, but purpose, a reason to heal. I am most grateful. He is one of my best men.” Elric did not smile as he spoke, but in his gaze was a warmth Kate had rarely seen. “Is it true that he promised Marie and Petra he would return to your home for one more night?”

  She laughed. “It is true. Marie begged him, saying she and Petra had a surprise for him, and he agreed.” Kate had as well. He had joined her in the kitchen after Petra’s tantrum, having heard of it from Marie, and was concerned that it was because of his departure. She had admitted it was the catalyst, but not the entire cause. Still, when he mentioned that Marie demanded he stay one more night, Kate had urged him to do so. “I don’t dare to guess what Marie has planned,” she said to Elric. “I pray it involves a song they meant to rehearse today, and not a plot to force him to stay indefinitely.”

  “You have a gift for making people feel at home.” Elric lifted her hand with his, and kissed it as he held her gaze.

  Confused by her feelings, Kate was relieved when Elric glanced away, startled by Wulf’s lurching attempt to rise, almost bringing the table down with him. His fellows steadied the furniture as Wulf weaved toward the door muttering something about the privy.

  “You’ve forgotten your boots,” Kevin called out, rising to fetch them.

  He’d not quite reached Wulf when the man flung wide the door and staggered back, wind and snow buffeting him and setting the flames dancing in the tapers. “Boots. I forgot my boots.”

  “Close the door you mutton-headed wastrel,” Douglas roared.

  Kevin nudged his drunk companion out of the way and shut the door. “Sit on the bench, you sot.” When Wulf was safely grounded, Kevin handed him his boots.

  Elric apologized to Kate. “I think it is time we departed, while my men can still manage snowy streets.” He shifted his long legs and rose. “I almost forgot. In your message inviting me to this celebration you mentioned that you had information?”

  “I do. Perhaps you might see the others away, then return for a quiet talk?”

  He nodded as he turned to see to his men.

  Douglas had risen and collared Stephen, who had been reaching for some figs, pulling him up out of his chair. “May God bless you and keep you, Mistress Clifford,” said Douglas. “A splendid meal—more than we deserve.” He growled at Wulf, who teetered near the door.

  Stephen bowed gracefully. “My deepest gratitude for the feast and your gracious presence, my lady.”

  Elric hid his laughter with a cough as Kevin came back round to thank her.

  “Have a care with Marie,” she warned.

  Kevin laughed. “I promise not to pledge my troth.” Leaning close, he whispered, “Your secrets are safe with me, always.”

  “My dear friend,” she smiled her gratitude.

  Kate found herself avoiding Elric’s eyes as she saw the men out, flustered by their exchange. As soon as the door closed behind the men, Seth came out from the kitchen. He paused at the sideboard with a laugh.

  “They ate most of it,” said Kate. “Feel free to eat what’s left, though it won’t fill you.”

  “Griselde had the foresight to set some aside for me and our guest. She’ll be pleased. She enjoys cooking for hearty eaters.”

  “Sir Elric and his squire will be back,” said Kate. “Let our guest know that she cannot yet come out.”

  Seth nodded. “Brandywine, nuts, figs. Will that suffice?”

  “More than enough.”

  Elric followed his men as they slipped and slid through the drifting snow while supporting their drunk companion. Wulf would lose his balance and topple into the soft snow, and with much jeering and laughter they would pull him up, steady him, and trudge on, only to repeat it several steps later. At least they had no witnesses. Between Kate’s guesthouse and his men’s lodging on Stonegate Elric encountered no one else foolish enough to be out in the storm. At last they arrived at their destination, Harry doing the honors of knocking on the door to rouse the landlord. Stephen and Douglas gave up on Wulf and simply dragged him inside, their landlord shaking his head and muttering about soldiers who could not hold their drink. Sir Elric gave him a few pence for his trouble and a promise that he would keep them far too busy to enjoy another such evening while Wulf sang Dame Katherine’s praises.

  Back out on the street, Elric, Kevin, and Harry drew their cloaks tight and trudged back down toward Petergate.

  “Do you feel well feted, Kevin?” Elric asked.

  Kevin laughed. “Oh, it was my night? Somehow it seemed Wulf’s.”

  Harry slapped him on the back.

  “Dame Katherine is a wonder, is she not?” said Kevin.

  “She is,” Elric said, with heart. He had never encountered such a woman. Katherine Clifford knew just how to be with the men, putting them at ease, yet not too familiar. They respected and admired her.

  As did he, though upon his first glimpse of her several years earlier on the arm of her late husband, Simon Neville, he had imagined that she would prove as tedious as most merchant’s wives, more interested in impressing the other guests than in engaging in conversation. It had been Elric’s first Christmas at Sheriff Hutton Castle. He’d been named captain of the earl’s guard at the castle at Michaelmas. Simon and Katherine had arrived the day before the Christmas feast, she swathed in a fur-lined cloak and accompanied by a brace of war dogs—ridiculous for the wife of a city merchant—he dressed likewise and seemingly concerned that there was snow on the grou
nd and their fine boots would be ruined. When Katherine was relieved of her cloak by a servant, the extravagant silk and velvet gown in a red veering dangerously toward royal purple, her dark hair swept up in a silver crispinette powdered with pearls and emeralds, he found it difficult to look away, and she noticed, studying him with frank interest. A pampered pet tugging at her leash, eager to stray, he had thought. When she watched with unusual intensity his swordplay demonstration, and later surprised him with knowledgeable questions about his technique, he thought it flirtation, or perhaps a ploy to inflame an indifferent spouse. Though how any man could be indifferent to her he could not fathom. Not that she was the most beautiful woman at the feast—her features were too bold for that—but there was a vitality about her that stirred his imagination.

  Out on the practice field the following morning he’d looked up with amazement as she approached in the company of her hounds and asked one of the men if there was a target she might use to practice, preferably a straw man. She needed some fresh air and movement after such a rich feast. Practice what? he had wondered, as he and most of the other men crowded round. From her skirts she drew a small battle axe, gave a signal to the hounds to stand behind her at a slight distance, and proceeded to work up a heat throwing her axe, retrieving it, throwing again, until one of the squires began to retrieve it for her. Her technique was flawless, clearly the result of much practice. Time after time she hit all the best points on the straw man to disarm him, disable him, or kill him. The play finished when she beheaded him. Elric’s amazement burgeoned.

  And then she had asked if she might return in a while for some archery practice.