[Ela of Salisbury 03] - The Lost Child

by J G Lewis

  “No one leave this room,” said Ela. “Until the coroner arrives.” A servant was sent to fetch him.

  Father Dominic’s lips almost disappeared in his long mournful face. “You’ve killed him.”

  “Wait until the coroner arrives,” said Ela. She didn’t want to tell him what had happened because he might go remove all traces of poison from the dead monk’s cell so as to better point the blame at them.

  “On what authority?” asked Father Dominic, drawing himself up.

  “On mine as Countess of Salisbury.” She wished she could say, and sheriff of Wiltshire, but that would come soon enough. “Brother Sebastian is wanted for crimes against children, and Roger le Duc, the sheriff of London, is well aware of it. And don’t pretend you’re ignorant of this iniquity. This house is filled with young children.”

  “The church has a fine choir of young boys, as do many in this city.”

  “What of the African boy? And this young servant?” She pointed to the blond boy who’d brought their wine. He had the rose-cheeked beauty of a girl, and his blue eyes were wide with fear. “It seems unnatural for men of God to have young children as servants. In a religious house it’s conventional to have the brothers serve each other.”

  “What do you know of a religious order?” scoffed Father Dominic.

  “Much. My family founded the priory at Bradenstoke three generations ago, and we’ve maintain close relations with it since. My late husband charged me to found an order in his memory, and I also intend to found a holy order of sisters and join it myself. So the organization and management of a religious house is a subject close to my heart and one which I have studied for some time.”

  The priest looked more confused than ever. “I’ve only been here a short while.”

  “As you told me previously. Have you met Abbot de Rouen?” Her curiosity was getting the better of her, though they really should wait for the coroner or the sheriff to arrive.

  “I met him, yes. Before he left for Rome.”

  “Did he strike you as a holy man? A pious servant of God?”

  Father Dominic blinked. A muscle worked in his jaw. “I was not fortunate enough to become intimate with him.”

  “Your answer speaks volumes,” replied Ela.

  It seemed an eternity before the coroner finally arrived. The two child servants sat on the floor, their backs against the wall. Father Dominic stood stiff as a board in his cassock, his face gray-white against his dark hair and his bony fingers working the wooden cross around his neck in moments of distraction.

  Bill, calm and watchful as always, remained a soothing presence. Ela always preferred action to quiet waiting—a failing she regularly prayed over—and had to school herself to be patient. She even suggested that they say some prayers over the lifeless body of Brother Sebastian, who was—after all—still a child of God even as he was a monster who preyed on children. Father Dominic led them in a few disconsolate prayers and looked as relieved as she was to hear the clatter of hooves on the cobbles outside.

  Two of the sheriff’s men burst in before the coroner, Theobald Crux, entered the room, panting slightly, his white hair disordered. His eyes fixed immediately on Ela. She suspected that different words hovered on his tongue, but when his mouth opened, he said “My lady,” with a slight bow.

  Ela rose, “God be with you, Master Crux.” She drew a deep breath. “We came here to offer a donation to the church, and Brother Sebastian offered us each a cup of wine. On a hunch, my companion, Sir William Talbot, exchanged Brother Sebastian’s cup with the one intended for me while his back was turned. The results are as you see.”

  She looked down at the contorted form of the monk where he lay on the floor, his robe gathered up around his knees, exposing his short, hairy calves.

  “He died of poisoning?” Crux knelt over the body and lifted one of Brother Sebastian’s eyelids to peer at his eyeball.

  “To all appearances. When he poured out his wine on the floor”—she pointed to the splash that decorated her hem—“there were grains of…some substance remaining in the dregs.” She pointed to the cup. Crux rose creakily, and peered into it. He sniffed it and frowned.

  “It must have been a very fast-acting poison,” said Ela. “He felt its effects from the first sip.”

  Father Dominic took a step forward. “For all I know, he was poisoned by these people here.” He spoke tremulously, clearly not sure where his interests lay.

  Crux looked at him. “Who are you?”

  “I am the priest charged with guiding the flock of St. Michael and All Angels in Abbot de Rouen’s absence.”

  “I took the precaution of keeping everyone in this room while we waited for you,” said Ela to Crux. “So that one of your men could search Brother Sebastian’s room for poison. I didn’t want an accomplice to go remove evidence before you arrived.”

  Crux gave a signal to one of his men and spoke to Father Dominic. “Have your servant show us his room and show proof that it is indeed his room.”

  Father Dominic ordered the blond boy to lead him. Ela took reassurance in the fact that the child would have no motivation to lie about whose room they entered.

  Crux looked at Bill, who winced involuntarily, possibly from the pain of his injuries which likely were aggravated by sitting so long. “What made you exchange the cups?”

  Bill cleared his throat. “I suspected that Brother Sebastian knew the Countess of Salisbury had uncovered his ring of child thieves and that she’d identified him as part of it. I thought that she placed herself in danger coming here.”

  “Then why did you come here?” asked Crux of Ela. His white brows lowered over sharp, dark eyes.

  “To find the truth,” said Ela. “We saw Brother Sebastian taking food to the warehouse where the children were imprisoned. I informed the sheriff of this already.”

  Crux looked confused. Clearly the sheriff had not mentioned the matter to him.

  “I had asked the sheriff to gain entry to the warehouse and free the children, but he was unwilling to force the door. I’m afraid I decided to take matters into my own hands, and the rescued children are now at my mother’s house.”

  Crux’s eyes widened.

  “Brother Sebastian played a role in this gang of child thieves, but I knew there must be a head to this diseased body. Brother Sebastian’s confession—witnessed by Father Dominic—revealed that fiend to be none other than Abbot de Rouen himself.”

  Crux stared from Ela to Father Dominic and back. His expression remained blank.

  Fear flared in Ela’s heart. Theobald Crux was undoubtedly a man with many years of experience. Had those years sharpened his tools in the quest for justice, or blunted them for use against the powerful institutions that ran this city—and this country?

  “Just because he bears the title of abbot does not mean he is a true servant of God,” protested Ela, before Crux had a chance to respond. “As he made his final confession, Brother Sebastian described the foul ways that de Rouen and himself, and countless others, used these children and many others over the course of some years.”

  Crux looked at Father Dominic. “What ways were these?”

  Father Dominic swayed slightly, as if in a wind. Ela saw his throat bob. “He did describe…uh…intimacies…” His voice tailed off as if his throat were swallowing itself.

  “Intimacies of a…” Crux glanced at Ela. “Of a sexual nature?”

  “Yes,” rasped Father Dominic. “I assure you that I played no role whatsoever in these activities. If they even existed. Which I doubt.” His voice gained strength as it rose on this final note of protest. “As I’ve mentioned, I came to London only recently, from Norwich.”

  Crux examined the body, then closed both eyes in a practiced gesture of his fingertips. He rose creakily to his feet and peered at Bill Talbot. “You’d like me to believe that you came here expecting to be poisoned?”

  “Expecting the countess to be poisoned. We’d already discussed that neither of us s
hould eat or drink anything within these walls.”

  “So, since you didn’t intend for either the countess or yourself to drink this wine, by giving it to Brother Sebastian you have effectively murdered him.” The word murdered rang off the carved stone of the great fireplace.

  “It was Brother Sebastian who intended to commit murder. Sir William only intended to save me from poisoning,” cut in Ela. “He had no way of knowing for certain if I’d drink it or not.”

  Bill stood gallantly still, looking ready for a blow on the chin. Ela’s heart swelled with tenderness for him. Even injured and in daily pain, he remained her resolute defender. “Sir William Talbot bears no responsibility for anything beyond protecting me from harm, which he’s bravely done since I was a girl.”

  “Perhaps you could explain why you expected Brother Sebastian to poison your mistress?” Crux peered at Bill.

  Bill launched into an account of the events of the past weeks: the disappearance of Edyth Wheaton from Salisbury and their efforts to seek her; the information Ela had received from Spicewell’s informants and their subsequent pursuit; Ela’s kidnapping; the death of Vicus Morhees and the subsequent slaying of her two guards and the discovery of the children in the warehouse. “It’s possible that Brother Sebastian knew the countess was involved in the removal of the children.”

  “Then why would he let her into the house?” asked Crux, looking doubtful.

  “Most likely because he saw an opportunity to be rid of me,” replied Ela. “Though I did promise a large donation to St. Michael and All Angels, and I intend to uphold that promise.” She paused. “Though naturally I wish the donation to assist in their efforts to celebrate the glory of God, not to further the enslavement of young children for sinful purposes.”

  “Quite,” muttered Crux. “I must speak with the sheriff about this. My men shall remove the body.” He looked from Father Dominic to Ela to Bill, possibly wishing he could reasonably arrest at least one of them. “There is the matter of the poison.”

  Ela looked at the door. The young boy had not returned with Crux’s men. “Shall we help you look for the poison?”

  “Absolutely not.” He harrumphed. “Please return to your home and await word from either myself or the sheriff. This is an investigation of murder. Neither you or Sir William may leave the City of London until this matter is resolved.”

  Chapter 23

  The children kept Ela occupied and the household bustling. Some of the children agitated to return home, but Ela reminded them that they would need to testify about their captors to the sheriff. Instead she helped them compose letters to their worried families, and hired messengers to deliver them without delay, with instructions to read them aloud in case the recipients weren’t lettered.

  The sheriff didn’t arrive until the next day. He rode up with two men and a world-weary expression on his face.

  “You understand that I can’t arrest an abbot,” he said, after the polite preliminaries. “Especially not one that is currently in Rome.”

  “Men of God are not above the laws of man,” protested Ela. She’d expected this line of evasion. “Right now, today, Abelard de Rouen might be interfering with young children. The children eating their bread in my kitchen said that three of their number went with him to Rome. Those unfortunate souls have no doubt already been sold into the households of other degenerates. Do you think it’s fair they should be forced into a life of sin and suffering in a foreign land, never to see their loved ones again?”

  Her voice rose as passion filled her, but she couldn’t bear for le Duc to think this was just another “unfortunate matter” that they would have to ignore because it trampled on the toes of powerful men.

  Le Duc had the decency to look sheepish for a moment before his brows lowered into a stern expression. “You could be accused of breaking and entering for forcing your way into that warehouse.”

  “To rescue innocent children!”

  “You could also be accused—at least Sir William Talbot could be—of killing Brother Sebastian by giving him a cup of poisoned wine.”

  “Sir William had no way of knowing that wine was poisoned.”

  “The coroner said that he switched his cup with yours.”

  “On suspicion that it might be poisoned. If Brother Sebastian hadn’t poisoned it himself, he would still be walking among us. He sealed his own fate.”

  “And conveniently confessed his crimes with a roomful of witnesses. You almost couldn’t have planned it better.” Le Duc looked down the length of his nose.

  “He certainly incriminated the abbot.” Ela inhaled. “Look to your conscience. Can you sleep at night knowing that a fiend is stealing children and pressing them into slavery?”

  Le Duc looked vaguely uncomfortable, but did not dignify her question with a reply. “I understand that you’ll soon be sheriff of Wiltshire,” he said, after a pause.

  “Indeed.” She lifted her chin. “I trust that I’ll serve the people of Wiltshire to the best of my abilities. I certainly intend to prosecute all villains to the fullest extent of the law, regardless of their wealth or connections.”

  “I sincerely hope that your worthy ideals are not soon bruised by convention.” His wry expression contradicted his words. “The fact remains that the person managing the day-to-day activities, Brother Sebastian, is now dead, as is Vicus Morhees, who was some kind of procurer for them. The abbot is beyond our reach, so, as far as I am concerned the case is closed.”

  Ela struggled to keep her expression calm. “Did you interview the children in the household? They may know of other members of the order who are involved.”

  “And who will be untouchable behind the invisible rood screens of church hierarchy.”

  Ela tried to control her fury. His nonchalant attitude irked her as much as his dismissive words. “Our good King Henry is a worthy and pious man. I’m sure he’ll be deeply shaken by this flowering of evil in a church so close to his palace at Westminster.” She paused and peered right into le Duc’s eyes. “I shall write to him at once, and we shall see if he finds this matter so easy to ignore.”

  The tiniest hint of alarm lit the darkness of le Duc’s eyes.

  “Perhaps I could talk to the children and try to learn more about the people involved,” he said slowly. “Then if events are as you describe I could write to Rome and inform the pope that one of his abbots has wandered too far from the fold and needs to be disciplined.”

  Ela allowed a tiny smile to cross her lips. “The children could meet with you in this parlor. Would you like to see them one at a time or as a group?”

  “One at a time, to start with.”

  The sheriff and one of his men spent most of the afternoon deposing each of the children. They learned damning information about Abbot de Rouen, who had personally undressed and groped several of the children before leaving on his pilgrimage to Rome. Their stories were so consistent that le Duc could hardly dismiss them as childish fancy.

  They also learn details of the depravity of Brother Sebastian, who would do disgusting things to the children, then exhort them to pray for absolution from their sins. Their accounts implicated the late and unlamented Vicus Morhees and eight or nine other individuals in the London area in criminal activities related to stealing or imprisoning or abusing the children.

  Ela stayed in the background, encouraging the children to be truthful, even if the truth was difficult. Some were glad to tell, others so distressed and ashamed that they could barely get the words out. She assured them that what had happened to them was none of their fault and they had committed no sin.

  The abbot and his tonsured henchman, however…

  At last the children were sent to the kitchen to eat a meat stew and le Duc donned his leather gloves in the front hallway, ready to leave.

  “How will you proceed?” Ela quietly blocked the doorway as she asked her question.

  Le Duc’s face was grave. “A terrible crime was committed against these children.”<
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  “And countless others. This has been going on for years.”

  Le Duc cleared his throat. “I intend to write to the pope and inform him of the abbot’s ungodly activities. I will also tell him about Brother Sebastian and the other brothers mentioned and suggest that the entire order undergo a severe housecleaning.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Ela wanted to cheer aloud but managed to restrain herself. “What action do you expect the pope to take?”

  “I expect him to order an inquisition into the abbot’s behavior. Given the large number of witnesses and the number of killings associated with this criminal activity, I do not imagine that even Rome will be able to sweep this aside. I fully anticipate that the abbot will be excommunicated and likely hanged for his crimes.”

  Ela didn’t enjoy planning an execution even when the culprit was guilty as sin itself. In this instance she did feel that the earth would be rid of a foul scourge in the person of Abbot de Rouen, who’d used his power and his “holy pilgrimages” to transport enslaved and abused children throughout Europe and beyond.

  “And can you take steps to shut down the overseas channels by which these children are placed in foreign hands?”

  Le Duc frowned. “I can reach out to the authorities in Bruges. That seems to be where the last shipment of children went. From there, who knows where they ended up.”

  “God willing, they will all be returned safe home to England,” said Ela.

  “The world is a bottomless cesspit of crime, my lady.” Le Duc looked tired beyond his characteristic world-weary expression. “The trafficking of children has doubtless gone on since the beginning of time and shall continue until Judgment Day, but rest assured I will do what I can to fight against it here and now.”

  “God go with you, Sheriff le Duc.” She lowered her voice. “Your position as sheriff of London is no doubt a delicate balancing act between prosecuting criminals and maintaining the favor of the powerful—without which you would not long hold your position. I shall endeavor to learn from your experience and temper my idealism with wisdom.”