by J G Lewis
With a huge thud, the door flew in, bringing one of the guards sprawling with it. Ela peered down the hole. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m all right.”
“Bill, I’m up on the top floor. We need the ladder. There’s an opening between the floors. You’ll have to break the ladder down into its parts to get it in here.”
“There must be ladders in here, or how do they get up?” asked Bill. The guards searched the lower floor and found them lying up against a wall. It seemed an eternity of fumbling with ladders in the dark, then carefully guiding the children down, but eventually they were all out on the dark street.
The few people who saw them—a couple of tipsy sailors and a bearded beggar—clearly didn’t want to get involved. Ela and the guards urged the children to keep quiet, and hurried them back to Alianore’s house without speaking to anyone. She half expected some of them would try to peel off and run away, but none did.
Ela dreaded running into Brother Sebastian on the way back, but what would he do? He could hardly shout, “Those are my children you’re stealing!”
Back at the house the servants gathered to feed and bathe the children. Most were dressed in fairly new clothing, probably to better present them to prospective purchasers. Ela’s sensibilities recoiled at the idea of people peering into the children’s mouths or pinching their bottoms as if they were sheep or milk cows.
“Are we to summon the sheriff?” asked Bill at last. She could tell he’d been wanting to ask the question for a while.
“And tell him we forced entry into a warehouse he refused to break into? He didn’t want me to find these children.”
“True,” said Bill. “He seemed unwilling to burst open a hornets’ nest.”
“Or he’s being paid off and is therefore a sleeping partner in this enterprise. Until I know who’s the keystone, I don’t want to give him an opportunity to destroy evidence and avoid pursuing the matter.”
“But what of the children?”
“We must find where each one came from and send them safely home. If we turn them over to the sheriff, there’s no telling what could happen to them.”
“But surely the people holding them will come looking for them?” Bill frowned. “I can only imagine they’re very valuable cargo.”
“Indeed, and when they do, we shall be ready. Alun is already dressed as a beggar and on his way to watch the alley to see who turns up to find the door broken in, and how they react.” Alun seemed sharp witted as well as highly skilled with his weapons. He had a long dagger concealed beneath his ragged cloak and was ready for a fight. However, he’d been told to avoid one if at all possible, but to follow anyone who came. Her key objective was to discover the source of all this evil.
With the dawn, he reported, Brother Sebastian had arrived with his basket of food. He’d startled, dropping the basket at the sight of the broken door. He’d hurried away, lifting his cassock as he ran, and headed right back to Abbot de Rouen’s house.
Alianore’s large house felt crowded with all the children in it. There were nine of them, including Elsie Brice. Hilda proved herself invaluable, soothing and caressing the scared younger ones, speaking bold talk to the older ones and making sure all were fed and settled.
Ela began the process of trying to discover each of their origins. The older ones mostly remembered the name of their village or at least the nearest town, but the three youngest didn’t know. Their world was organized around such landmarks as “market street,” “narrow lane” or “the old cross,” which could be anywhere in England.
Most disturbing of all, four of them claimed to have been sold by their guardians—one boy sold by his own mother and father, who couldn’t provide for him after being thrown off their lord’s manor for poaching. “They said we’d all starve on the road when winter came,” he said quietly. “And that with the money they got for me they could buy food until they found a place to settle. If you send me back and they have to give back the money, we’ll all starve and they’ll be angry with me.”
Ela felt fury at the parents who’d told him this tale, true though it likely was. She was fairly sure she’d rather starve with her children under her care than sell them to strangers…but she tried to reserve judgement. Regardless, the boy had no home to go to—nor did Elsie Brice or the young orphan. What was to become of the ones who couldn’t return home?
“You can’t employ them all, surely,” murmured Bill softly, as they retired to the private parlor after supper.
“We’ll be moving back into the castle this winter,” she said confidently. “There’s always a need for new staff.”
“You expect to return there this year?”
“I intend to pay my tribute to the king before we return to Salisbury. I see no reason for delay.”
“He’ll have to inform de Hal that he needs to move and likely find him another posting.”
“Even when he knows the man is a violent ruffian? I hardly think so.”
Bill looked dubious. “De Burgh might have some say in the matter.”
Ela released an unladylike snort. “True. He’ll try to delay and obfuscate as long as possible to frustrate me, but he can’t overturn the stated will of the king.”
Bill was silent.
“He can’t!” She was trying to convince herself as much as him. “But trust me, no time shall be wasted. I’ve sent word to my bankers to raise the funds, and when we return I’ll begin the process of wringing the repayment from my various manors. It’ll be quite a project.” She leaned back in her chair. She enjoyed the business aspect of operating her manors and always had. Her husband had been wise to leave such matters in her hands from early in their marriage. “But that is a matter for another day. For now, we must flush Brother Sebastian out of his comfortable bush behind St. Michael and All Angels and find out who his master is.”
“Perhaps he is the master?” suggested Bill.
“No.” Ela shook her head. “He’s a functionary, a go-between. If he was the master he wouldn’t have dropped his basket and run, he would have rushed in to check the status of his investment.” She sighed. “I’m beginning to suspect Abbot de Rouen himself may be the true head of this diseased body. I intend to put pressure on Brother Sebastian—it disgusts me to call him a brother—and see if I can wring the truth out of him.”
“Surely such a thing should be done in a court of law?”
“Indeed it should, but as Master Spicewell has warned me, the church has its own laws, and they may be able to keep him out of the courts. I know the truth, however, so at least he will have a trial of sorts in the court of public opinion.”
“I suppose if there were rumors of a monk or an abbot stealing children, the gossip would make it harder for him to do it in future.”
“And hopefully the good men of the church would cut out the rotten flesh from St. Michael and All Angels and replace them with true servants of God.”
“God willing,” murmured Bill. He looked rather appalled by the whole idea. Or maybe that was his natural expression these days. “But how will you put pressure on Brother Sebastian?”
Ela straightened her shoulders. “I shall visit him tomorrow in the house and accuse him directly.”
“He’ll deny it.”
“I shall then tell him that I have the children—and that they’ve identified him—and that I intend to tell the sheriff everything…unless he strikes a bargain with me. On striking the bargain he’ll reveal and seal his guilt.”
“And you won’t tell the sheriff?” Bill looked confused.
“Not if that’s part of our compact. I won’t go back on my word. It’s no great loss since—if you’ll recall—I’ve already told the sheriff of him and his role and he showed no interest. So I’d merely pledge not to remind the sheriff of what he already knows and does not care one whit about.”
Bill blinked. She could tell he didn’t entirely understand her motivation, but she had a clear picture in her head. Since realizing she could n
ever point the finger of accusation at de Burgh—and learning how hard it was to wrap the noose around the neck of a slippery miscreant like Morhees, who was skilled at directing the finger of blame to others—she aimed to be more creative in her methods of pursuit.
By the end of the day tomorrow she intended to have Brother Sebastian in her snare.
Chapter 22
“Don’t be so pessimistic. Money always works.” Ela reassured Bill quietly as they walked to Abbot de Rouen’s house late the next morning.”
“He did take it before, I suppose.” It was a bright October morning, the sky almost painfully blue.
“And he doesn’t know it was us that freed the children. He just knows they’re gone.” Ela felt optimistic. “All we need is to get in the door.”
Bill blew out a long breath. He’d hinted that he was still injured and hoped he was adequate to the task of defending her life. She reminded him that her entire household had instructions to rush to the sheriff if she didn’t return before the bells for Sext.
Ela walked through the delicate wrought-iron gate that pierced the wall in front of the abbot’s door. She walked up the neat stone path and rang the bell hanging to the right of the door. The dooryard smelled of the rosemary and lavender planted along the walk, in contrast to the stink of the city.
A pimple-faced young monk with an untidy tonsure opened the door. “We seek Brother Sebastian,” said Ela with a smile. “We bring another donation to contribute to the glory of God and the beauty of St. Michael and All Angels.”
He ushered them in, and Ela turned to shoot a smile at Bill as the monk guided them into the same parlor, with its big silver cross. The tang of stale incense stung her nostrils. The black-and-white marble floor beneath their feet gave Ela a rush of remembered fury at how she’d been treated in this house.
She looked forward to seeing Brother Sebastian squirm.
After some length of time, Brother Sebastian entered, looking wary. She hadn’t announced her name, but perhaps he suspected it would be her.
“Good morrow and God’s blessings, my lady,” he said. He carried a book under his arm. “Won’t you be seated?” He gestured to a sturdy wood chair. “I thought you might like to see this richly illustrated Psalter that the church recently acquired.” He held the book out to her. Bill swept in and took it from his hands.
Ela sensed alarm in Bill’s swift movements. “This book is too heavy for the countess to handle.” Ela’s first instinct was to protest that she wasn’t a weakling, but she deferred to Bill’s sensibilities and allowed him to place it gingerly on the table and to turn the pages for her.
Meanwhile, a young boy with blond hair entered with a jug of wine and three cups. Another boy, a redhead, unfolded a small stand to hold the wine and the cups. Bill turned some pages of the book, a nice enough Psalter, but nothing to exclaim over, while Brother Sebastian poured the wine and placed the three cups on the table, one at a time, in front of each of them.
Bill, still holding the book, remarked that it was fine and asked if they had an illustrated Gospel they might see, as the countess took a special interest in them. Ela fought the urge to stare at him in disbelief. What did he think he was doing?
“We do indeed.” He turned to the redhead boy and ordered him to fetch a blue-bound book from the sacristy.
Ela watched, from the corner of her eye, as Bill swiftly exchanged her cup for Brother Sebastian’s.
Startled, she struggled to stay focused on her task.
“Let us drink a toast to the future of St. Michael and All Angels,” said Brother Sebastian. “Which is bright thanks to your generosity.”
“Thanks be to God,” replied Ela, raising her cup. She pretended to take a large swallow, complete with moving her throat, and she saw Bill do the same. They all watched each other like hawks stalking a mouse. “As you may know, my beloved husband, William Longespée, died this March. I would like to give a gift in his name so that he’ll be remembered in the prayers of all men who worship here.” Ela felt confident that William would fully approve of her employing his name in this ruse. “What do you think would be appropriate? Perhaps a fine cup for the altar?”
Brother Sebastian peered into his cup. Then up at her. He opened his mouth, then tried to clear his throat. A flash of panic widened his eyes. “I—” The word stuck in his throat. A gurgling sound then emerged that caused Ela to glance at Bill in alarm.
Panic flared in her heart. “Are you ill, Brother Sebastian?” she asked.
“I…I…” he glanced at the cup again, and suddenly spilled its contents out, splashing the hem of his robe and her gown, too. Then he peered into the cup. “I am poisoned!” he croaked out. He threw the cup down, and Ela picked it up. At the bottom of the silver interior she could see clinging grains of a powdery substance—soaked and discolored by the wine.
Ela drew in a breath. “My companion took the precaution of exchanging your cup for mine. I was surprised by his action, but I see he’s saved my life. You were trying to kill me.”
She had no idea what poison he’d used. Would he take days to die, like her poor, suffering husband? Or would he be blue-lipped on the floor in moments? She couldn’t waste time in gaining the information she needed. “Who is the master that commands the stealing and distribution of children?”
Brother Sebastian slumped in his chair, clutching at his throat as if it burned. “You’re a witch!”
“I most assuredly am not.” She felt shockingly calm. “You, however, have committed great crimes in the eyes of God and man by helping to steal these children from their parents and send them to a terrible fate.”
The monk let out a whimper. His face turned gray. “I beg you, fetch a priest!”
“To give you last rites?” Ela rose to her feet, her nerves firing. “Indeed I shall and you shall have to make a full confession to receive your absolution.” This rather horrible turn of events could work in her favor. She rushed to the door. “Fetch Father Dominic! Brother Sebastian is dying!”
Three small boys poked their heads around the corner, eyes wide with alarm. “Fetch him!” she repeated. “And don’t delay!”
Brother Sebastian had slumped right off his chair and lay curled on the floor. Bill sat in his chair like a wooden figure. Perhaps he contemplated the fate of his own immortal soul under the circumstances.
“Bill, once again, you’ve saved my life. God be praised for your quick thinking and courage,” she reassured him. She crossed herself and he followed suit then pointed out that they both knew better than to sip from any cup in this residence.
She heard a scuffle of feet in the passage outside and Father Dominic burst into the room, followed by several young boys and a tall, thin monk. “What happened?”
“He tried to poison me by putting something in my wine,” she said quickly. “But Sir William Talbot had the wisdom to switch our cups so he has killed himself instead.”
“How do I know that you didn’t put the poison in his cup yourself?” Father Dominic’s voice trembled.
“I suppose you don’t. But, for now, he must confess all his sins in order to obtain entry to the Kingdom of God.” The tall monk whispered orders to the boys, who ran away, then returned with two candles and a phial of oil.
Brother Sebastian clutched at the hem of Father Dominic’s robe. “Please!” he rasped. “Help me!”
Father Dominic muttered an invitation to confession through stiff lips. His hands trembled, and his whole robe shook, as he bent over the dying monk. Ela glanced at Bill, who had his hand on the hilt of his sword as if he were ready for anything.
“Bless me father, for I have sinned—” gasped out Brother Sebastian. “I have sinned in thought, word and deed—” Then he launched into a litany of sins that made Ela’s scalp crawl. He’d worked for years helping his master steal children, and his reward had been to spend time pleasuring himself with them in ways that caused bile to rise in her throat.
“Who is your master?” Ela interrupt
ed. “Who is the foul fiend who commands such ill-use of children?”
Brother Sebastian gagged hard, hands at his throat and his face twisted with pain. She began to worry that he’d die before revealing the name she needed.
“Is it Abbot de Rouen?”
Father Dominic gasped and crossed himself. “Watch your tongue, woman!” he cried.
“This is not any woman, this is the Countess of Salisbury,” protested Bill. Ela held up a hand for him to hush.
“It is… Abbot de Rouen,” choked out the writhing monk. “He understood my special love for children—because he shared it himself.” His eyes squeezed tight shut and he clutched his knees to his stomach. “We saved them from a life of poverty,” he rasped. “And lifted them to a higher cause.”
“Of being interfered with by disgusting perverts?” Ela couldn’t hold her tongue. “May God forgive you because I cannot.” She felt a sob rise in her throat. Thank God she finally had her answer, and in front of a roomful of witnesses. “Who else? Is Father Dominic involved?”
“No!” protested Father Dominic. “I know nothing of this.”
Ela stared at him, trying to determine if he was lying.
Brother Sebastian rolled over onto his back, his face a mask of agony. “I’m dying!”
Father Dominic murmured words Ela had last heard when Bishop Poore uttered them over the hunched form of her dying husband. The priest applied oil to his eyes and mouth just as the bishop had done for dear William. Tears sprang into her eyes and blurred the scene and she found herself praying for William, who’d feared so greatly for the fate of his immortal soul.
When she blinked back her tears, Brother Sebastian lay still, his lips frozen in an odd pucker and his face ashen.
Father Dominic made the sign of the cross over him. “Lord Jesus Christ, receive the spirit of our departed brother.”
After a moment of stunned silence, Bill rose to his feet. “We must summon the coroner.”
