Kate found herself alone in her uncle’s parlor. She welcomed the quiet as a respite, at first. Everywhere she had gone this day she had heard talk of the death at the minster. She hastened to assure those who offered their condolences, mistakenly believing it was Phillip who had been found hanging, that he was very much alive, though in mourning for the stonemason who had been his teacher. Most of the gossip swirled round the rumor that Connor hanged himself in remorse for murdering Alice. That woman brought such trouble upon herself, many said. Kate did not bother to answer them. They would twist any retort to their purposes, the rumor too sensational to discard. William was named the catalyst for the tragedy by many, a detail that would worry her had they hinted of the murder in the guesthouse, but it was his transgression leading to her banishment from his service that had been resurrected for their entertainment. Pampered city folk with loose tongues and too much idle time. Only at the Sharp residence, where she had the opportunity to talk to the friar before he departed for his sad journey to Alice’s sister and cousin in Beverley, did she feel the sorrow of the past week held in appropriate respect and solemnity.
Still chilled, she warmed her hands at the brazier in her uncle’s parlor, but she could not reach the true cause of her tremors, a chill deeper than any fire could dispel. Any sense of safety she had once felt being in York, away from the northern border, had been undermined by the events of the past week. The delicate balance she had achieved between meeting Simon’s debts and saving for a future she might choose for herself was threatened, the safe haven she had created for Phillip and Marie invaded. She wanted to find the murderer and end this. She wanted his blood. But at the moment, she had only the name of someone possibly connected to all this, Hubert Bale, and a vague connection to Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster. Something did not feel right about that. The deaths seemed far too personal to have been arranged by a noble in exile. She knew she would not sleep soundly until she had eliminated the danger.
So much for a quiet respite. By the time her uncle escorted Phillip into the room, Kate welcomed the distraction from her own uneasy heart.
She smiled at the elegant outfit Marie had chosen for her brother. Phillip wore a dark red velvet jacket, deep brown leggings, and red leather boots. Elegant. But the clothes hung loosely, revealing a loss of heft since Jennet had fitted him months ago. Kate wondered what he had eaten the past few days.
A servant brought food and wine, then withdrew. Kate urged Phillip to eat. He tore some bread, smoothed soft cheese on it, and nibbled at it.
Dean Richard smiled. “My favorite cheese.”
Phillip nodded. “I like it. Marie would hate it.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“Tell us how you found him, Phillip,” Kate began. “You said you witnessed nothing, but then how did you happen to be there? I know you stayed the night in Connor’s lodgings.”
“How do you know that?”
“Jennet learned where you were, and made certain you were safe.” Not safe enough. “Go on, I pray you.”
“I think it was the sound of the street door closing that woke me. The door to the room was open, and Connor was gone. I pushed open the shutters, saw him hurrying in the direction of the minster yard. He was with another man.”
“Was he following the man, or walking with him?”
“With him.”
She nodded for Phillip to continue.
“I tried to catch up, but by the time I put on my boots they had disappeared. I thought it must be one of his fellows who had come for him, so I went on to the minster yard, hoping to catch them there. But the yard was dark, and there was no one yet in the masons’ lodge. I didn’t know what to do.” His voice broke. He wiped his eyes on his velvet sleeve. Foolish Marie.
“How were you able to see him down in the street?” Kate asked softly.
“A lantern. The stranger carried a lantern.”
“Why were you with Connor last night?” the dean asked.
“He went mad in the tavern when he heard that Alice Hatten had been pulled from the King’s Fishpond, and what had been done to her, how she died. I feared he would hurt himself when he sobered up.”
“They were lovers?” Kate asked.
“I think so. At least that’s what I guessed when I saw them together the morning after she witnessed the man murdered in your guesthouse.”
“You know of that?” the dean asked.
Phillip shrugged, averting his eyes. “I heard them talk about it, and he told me more.” For a moment, it seemed the boy’s weariness took over. He slumped into himself, bowed his head.
“Phillip, do you need more rest?” Kate asked.
He straightened and rubbed his cheeks. “I heard you complain to Berend that my father kept things from you that you would have been better off knowing, as all men did, thinking to protect you. But you do it too. If I had known . . .” His voice broke again.
“You might have prevented Connor’s death? No, Phillip. We knew of it, but we’ve not spoken to anyone who was there in the room that night. We do not yet know what happened. But we will find out. And we will avenge these deaths.”
“Katherine,” the dean warned, “this is not the border country.”
“We will argue that point once we know more. For now, we need to hear all that you know, Phillip. Something you heard or witnessed might hold the key. You saw them the morning after the murder in the guesthouse?”
His slender face solemn, his voice soft, he began to spin out the sad tale of Connor’s last days. Phillip skipped school one morning. Master Grantham had said he would be away, so the boy hoped he might catch Connor at his work and convince him to straighten up so that they could work together. He found Connor working on a corner fit. At first he invited Phillip to watch him at the task, telling him he could then try a corner himself. He had set aside a flawed piece of stone for Phillip to work on—so no worry if it split, no one would care, there were plenty more on the pile. As he watched Connor work, Phillip told him about Grantham’s offer to train him himself, and his own preference to work with Connor.
“He said nothing until he was finished. Then he said maybe the master was right. He had lost the gift. I argued that he had not.
“Connor blew on the piece of stone to judge his progress. He fit the chisel into the edge of the cut, then looked sidewise at me, shaking his head. ‘A master is guided by the beauty in his head, a vision. I’ve lost that. I thought myself a good man, a man who would never balk at doing the right thing. Most of all for those I love. But last night . . . I succumbed to my demon. I went first to the tavern, arrived late. . . . Damned I am. Had I been there—’ Then Connor brought down the hammer with such force the chisel sank deep into the stone, splitting it in an explosion of fine particles. With a curse, he dropped his tool. ‘You have promise, lad. Take Grantham’s offer. You will learn precious little from the likes of me,’ he said, then stormed off, shedding his smock as he headed toward the minster gate.
“I picked up the hammer and ran after him. I tried to tell him he was a good man, I knew he was, but he just told me to leave him be, to work with the master and leave him to hell.”
Phillip pressed his hands to his face, bowed his head.
Kate and her uncle exchanged a look. Perhaps it was too much too soon. She was about to suggest that Phillip rest awhile when he sat up with a huff.
“You see? I was right all along. Connor was not a drunkard, he was sad. He believed he had failed someone. I followed him, to see if I could help.”
He found Connor behind his lodgings, holding a woman by the arm. “Alice. I know that now. She was trying to break away, he was begging her to stay. She was crying. Her clothes were crumpled and her hair all undone. She looked frightened. He was telling her they had to go away on their own, they could not wait for everything to be readied, it never would be now. She kept saying she would go to her son’s father, he would make it right. And Connor kept saying he was the one who had put her in danger. They were both angry and frightened. I was afraid he would hit her, but she got away from him and told him that he was better off without her. He turned away and marched to the nearest alewife.”
Phillip tried to follow him, but Connor shooed him away. After that Phillip stole away from school when he could. Usually he found Connor in one of the taverns near the Bedern or near Joan del Bek’s bawdy house, where the mason would ask after Alice. No one had seen her. They seemed surprised to hear she had been in the city. After a while he would go back to a tavern and drink.
“For two days all he did was drink and search for her. He pretended to ignore me. I guess he hoped I would give up and leave him be. Yesterday I asked some of the other stoneworkers to come with me, to help me convince him to eat something. We almost succeeded. But then someone came with the news about a body found in the King’s Fishpond, a woman named Alice Hatten. Connor wanted to go to her, to warm her, to save her, and the man told him it was too late, her tongue had been cut out before she was thrown in the pond. She was long dead. Connor started to shout no no no no and throw things.”
Kate was angry that Connor had not seen what he was doing to Phillip, a boy who admired him to such an extent he would do anything to protect him.
“Have some more food?” the dean suggested.
Phillip shook his head. “This morning that man must have come for him, or maybe Connor saw him passing. If I had been quicker—”
“He was not your responsibility, my son,” Richard said.
“Why did he go with him?” Kate wondered aloud. “Why would he?”
“I wish I knew why he left, why he did not wake me.”
The dean poured more wine, watered his own and Phillip’s. Kate set hers aside. “Do you wish to continue, Phillip?”
A nod. “Just as I was cursing myself for assuming they’d headed to the minster, one of the apprentices came with a lantern to light the fire in the stonemasons’ lodge. I saw fresh prints where someone had broken through the frozen crust atop the snow. I had been following them all along. I think I frightened the apprentice, and he let me borrow the lantern so that I would leave. I think I was crying.” Phillip ran his slender fingers through his hair. “Please say nothing of any of this to Marie. I never let her see me cry.”
Kate promised she would repeat none of it to Marie without his permission.
“Once inside the minster I heard raised voices. A long way in, and up above me. I started running. The voices got louder and louder, and then stopped. The silence frightened me and I stumbled and fell. I lost time.”
Kate moved beside Phillip, put her arm round him. He did not push her away.
“Just before the lawyer’s stalls I heard someone running at me, then saw the lantern light, swinging wildly. It confused me. He rushed right into me. I think he meant to. I fell backward, and he ran on. I scrambled for my lantern and started to chase after him. I was angry. Then I remembered Connor. More time lost.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I prayed Connor was just hurt. Or spent from a fight. But I kept thinking of Alice Hatten, what they said happened to her. The door to the steps leading up above the chapter house was open. I climbed up, calling Connor’s name. Up the steps and—he was hanging there, the rope creaking. God help me. The board to stand on had been cast aside. I struggled to get it back onto both trestles. And I still could not reach him. I could not save him.”
“It is far more difficult to cut a man down than it is to hang him,” the dean whispered. “I could not manage it by myself.”
Phillip shrugged out of Kate’s embrace, wiping his eyes. “I want to go to Connor now, Dean Richard.”
“Of course. I will take you to him.” As her uncle rose, he asked Kate to stay. They should talk.
“I will just see whether Helen minds Lille and Ghent being underfoot in her kitchen awhile longer,” said Kate.
It felt good to escape the parlor for a while, to stretch her legs. In the kitchen, the dogs drowsed by the fire, despite the proximity of Richard’s cat, Claws, who napped with one eye open on a stool just above Lille and Ghent.
Helen, Richard’s longtime cook, bustled over to give her a welcoming hug. “Bless you for bringing Lille and Ghent with you. When they are here, Claws stays put, and I have some peace. Most days she’s in everything, and I live in fear the dean’s guests will find her fur in their stew.”
“Perhaps it is time you brought a dog into your household.”
Helen wrinkled her nose. “Your uncle would have the dog in his bedchamber, tracking mud and heaven knows what else onto those beautiful skins on which he likes to walk barefoot.”
And Helen as well, Kate guessed. She had long suspected Helen and Richard were far more to each other than master and cook. She thanked Helen for taking such good care of her hounds and her ward.
“He is a sweet lad, Phillip. Let him bide here awhile and I’ll do my best to fatten him. Perhaps your Berend’s cooking is not to his taste. Some men cook too fancy, eh?”
The suggestion gave Kate pause. Phillip might be safer here than in her home. The deanery was a hive of activity from early morning until late evening. Someone would always be there to watch him. For now, Phillip would be close to Connor, and, after the burial, close to Grantham’s house if he felt ready to return to work. “What a kind suggestion, Helen. I will consult my uncle about the possibility.” Not that Kate believed for a moment that Phillip would prefer Helen’s food over Berend’s. He was simply a light eater. But it would free Kate, Jennet, and Berend to investigate. Only Marie posed a problem, being far more inquisitive than her brother. Might she stay as well?
When Kate returned to her uncle’s parlor she found him pacing the length of the small chamber, from the shuttered window to the prie-dieu that served as a small altar, his expression one of grave concern. She settled in a high-backed chair near the brazier, leaning back to gaze at the dark oak beam above.
“Much to ponder in Phillip’s tale,” said Richard as he handed her a cup. “My best brandywine. A bit of comfort after our harrowing morning.” He sighed as he eased himself down across from her. He was a handsome man, dark hair and brows, light eyes, more gray than blue, with a strong jaw and an air of command. She still wondered about his not naming a proxy to handle his duties at the minster but rather taking up residence for a few months now, going so far as to bring along Helen. As King Richard’s Lord Privy Seal he might be summoned by the king at any moment. Perhaps she should not burden him with her wards.
He leaned forward, interrupting her reverie. “Alice Hatten expected Connor to join her at the guesthouse that night. Did I hear that right?”
“That was my impression, that Connor had stopped at the tavern and arrived late.” Kate paused, wondering whether to continue. Had King Richard sent her uncle to spy on Lady Kirkby? Or to help her? Either way, could she trust him? Nonsense. He had gone out of his way to be kind to Phillip, and to her. She must trust someone. “Arrived to what, I wonder? Was Connor the other man Griselde heard? Did he and Alice witness a murder? Is that why they are both dead? Or do we have it all wrong?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe Connor was a murderer. But what do we truly know?”
The dean shook his head. “If I believed the man to be a murderer I would not give him a Christian burial, eh? But after Connor’s burial we might ask Phillip whether the stonecutter confided any more to him.”
“After he has satisfied what he sees as his duty to his friend.”
“He is an admirable lad.”
“I confess I had not guessed him to be so steadfast in his loyalties.”
“He had not yet been tested. What do you think of the brandywine?”
Kate tasted it. Smooth, warm, soothing. “Quite a luxury. You are well compensated for your duties at court and in the church.”
“I should be. My life is not my own.”
No. It was not. He served two lords, God and King Richard. She wished she knew which held precedence.
“It is curious that Connor was expected at the guesthouse,” her uncle was saying. “And the following morning, Alice saying her son’s father would fix it. I did not know she had a child.”
Kate had not had the opportunity to tell him what she had learned from Jocasta the previous afternoon. Now, questioning why he was lingering in York, she wondered whether she should.
When she did not answer, the dean added, “And Connor blamed him for the trouble. William Frost? They were lovers. That is why she lost her position in his household, is that not true?”
Pointless to dissemble when he already guessed the truth. She told him what Jocasta had done for Alice.
“Ah. I told you God had put her in your path for a reason.” A satisfied grin. “Your cousin has much to answer for.”
“He does.” She was angry with herself for wasting her time with Drusilla Seaton the previous day. She should have seen William. Had she known of the connection between Connor and Alice . . . But had William known? “I wonder whether Alice went to William that morning. And why. I need to talk to him.”
“Hm.” Her uncle nodded as he began to settle back, then suddenly shifted forward again. “If the coroner should come to you with a complaint about not sending for him, direct him to me, Katherine. Or if he should demand the fine from you as Phillip’s guardian, responsible for keeping him here as a witness. Any matters regarding the incident, I claim responsibility. Send them to me. The minster is my domain.”
“The archbishop might disagree.”
“If he cared. Richard Scrope has expressed no interest in interfering in minster business.”
“And if he does, you will put his nose out of joint?” she teased.
A chuckle. “We are Cliffords. We know our worth.” He sighed and shook his head. “You have much to do, Katherine. I wondered—might it not be best if Phillip bides here until we have apprehended those responsible for this nightmare? I do not question your ability to keep him safe, but if you must take action, will he not be in the way?”
So much for doubting her uncle’s loyalty. Family came first, even her late husband’s bastards. “I was about to ask if he might stay. And his sister Marie? She will hate being away from her brother so long.”
The dean grunted. “She is a prickly child.”
“I do not deny it. But she finds solace in the kitchen. Helen might be just the person to reach her.”
“Helen is a wonder.” He poured himself more brandywine, settled back to consider the proposal. Kate waited, silently praying his generosity might extend to the girl. “I certainly have the room. The servants might prepare two guest chambers as easily as one.” He shook his head. “Why am I hesitating? Of course. As long as Phillip agrees.”
Perfect. She would have freedom of movement for a little while, at least until Lady Kirkby departed. Surely her uncle would remain in York through Margery’s visit. “You are a blessing, uncle.” Kate was already in motion, eager to consult her ward. “I will tell Phillip what we propose, ask whether he is willing.”
“You will be careful, Katherine? You will not do anything rash?”
“With Phillip?”
“You know what I mean. We are not on the borders.”
“Berend and Jennet will see to it that I do nothing rash, uncle.”
He did not look reassured. “That question you asked Phillip. About whether Connor was following the man, or accompanying him. What was the significance?”
“A man bent on taking his life does not bring along a companion.”
“You were thinking of your twin Geoffrey?”
“My mother shared that with you?”
“Actually, your father.”
She was surprised. Her father had said little after Geoff’s death. “Yes, Geoff.”
“And you?”
She shrugged. “That was a long time ago. I have responsibilities now.”
“And here I was worried about all you carry on your shoulders.”
“Bless you, uncle.”
But it was he who blessed her as she took her leave.
Father talked to him about me?
I know. I find it strange as well. Perhaps we were wrong about Father.
No. I will never believe that.
Quiet now, Geoff. I need to think through my conversation with William.