Wild Justice

by Priscilla Royal

  Anne nodded understanding. When she and her husband had their apothecary shop, Anne stayed in his shadow, although it was she who had been trained by a physician. When they both entered Tyndal Priory, however, he had dropped all pretense of expertise while she had offered her gifts to the hospital there.

  Sister Richolda closed the door and faced her fellow healer. “Now for those questions on other matters that concern you. Ask, while we may be free to discuss them.” Her previously light tone was replaced with solemnity.

  Anne wavered for an instant. Could she trust this woman enough to ask about Mistress Hursel? Yet to ignore the infirmarian’s offer might banish any hope she had of learning needed information. In an attempt not to betray her fear of blundering, she phrased her interest as something one inquiring woman could ask of another who had just confessed to the vice of inquisitiveness.

  “I am curious about the murder that took place here. We were quite shocked that Prioress Amicia had been convicted of the crime. My prioress had expected to meet with her.”

  Gesturing to the bench near the shelves filled with medicine, Sister Richolda sat and Anne joined her.

  Anne noted that the infirmarian faced the entryway.

  Sister Richolda massaged her knuckles as if they pained her. “It stunned us, and I was horrified when the body was brought here for my examination.”

  “Forgive me. I have no purpose for inquiring into these matters, but I also own that woman’s frailty of succumbing to the vice of curiosity.”

  “Then let us both indulge in the wickedness. I suspect it would be deemed a minor sin in this instance.”

  Anne smiled.

  But the infirmarian returned it with a troubled, almost pleading expression. “The poor woman was probably killed by a knife thrust into her chest. The wound was both narrow and shallow, most probably caused by a common dining tool which can be lethal if enough force is used. The blow was well-placed. It entered here.” She pointed to her heart. “And, if I am correct and the scratches on her breast were new, the knife was driven up to the hilt which might have left those marks. It would have taken a strong blow, perhaps made with two hands, especially because the angle suggests it was done from behind.”

  Choosing not to interrupt this rapid flow of words, Anne only raised a puzzled eyebrow.

  “Had she been struck from the front, the angle would not have been as sharp unless the assailant was of remarkable height. As you might also ask, I was surprised that Prioress Amicia could have found the strength. She has suffered of late from a marked frailty.” Richolda caught her breath as if stopping herself from saying more.

  “Yet she was convicted of the murder,” Anne said, eager to hear the response.

  The infirmarian looked down at her lap.

  “Was your testimony required in Chapter?”

  Sister Richolda gripped her hands. Her knuckles grew white, and she nodded once.

  “Were you asked about her frailty?”

  “It was I who mentioned it. In response, Father Pasche reminded us all that the Devil bestows great strength on sinners when he fills them with rage. Then he asked me whether she might have been able to kill if the Evil One had thus taken over her soul. I could not deny the likelihood.”

  “Am I correct in thinking you were not completely swayed by his argument?” Anne asked the question with a sympathetic tone.

  “Prioress Amicia was a good woman, yet many of us were confused by her manner during the trial. If it was not the Evil One who had possessed her and made her commit the crime, why not deny her guilt? If she was guilty, why not confess? I do not understand why she did neither. The guiltless proclaim their innocence. The nuns had little choice but to convict her.” A tear crested and fell down her cheek. “I refused to vote.”

  Those words were barely audible as if she were either ashamed or frightened by her decision to abstain. The infirmarian may not have directly answered her question, but Anne was certain the abstention signified her doubt of the woman’s guilt. “It must have grieved everyone that your former prioress had done this vile act.”

  “Many of us continue to weep for her, although none doubt that Prioress Emelyne will prove a worthy successor.”

  “You said that she was probably killed by a knife. Was the weapon not recovered?”

  “It was not in the body at the time the murder was discovered. Neither Father Pasche nor Brother Damian thought it necessary to look for it as Prioress Amicia had accepted guilt. Although the sheriff was summoned and informed of all proceedings, the perpetrator was under Church authority and he had no further need to be involved. But a small knife was found by a nun not long afterward. It lay just under a layer of dead leaves near the bench. No one was certain it was the weapon, nor was the owner ever found. Identification of such a common item is usually impossible.”

  “Did your former prioress explain why the knife was not left in the body?”

  “When asked, she said only that she remembered nothing about it.”

  Anne heard footsteps behind her.

  Sister Richolda smiled sympathetically. “Do you feel better, my child, or do you need a remedy from my supply?”

  Anne stood and noted that Janeta’s color was no longer green.

  “Thank you, Sister. I need nothing. My courses are due, and I often feel ill before they arrive. I am now well.”

  “Then I am sure you and Sister Anne will have other parts of the priory to visit.” Sister Richolda stood and folded her hands.

  There was nothing else that Anne wished to see of Mynchen Buckland, and she wondered how she could find a way to spend additional time with this infirmarian. What she had already learned from the woman’s tumble of words suggested there was more to find out.

  As if Sister Richolda had read her mind, she quickly said, “Perhaps you and I can visit again soon. I long to hear what else you have learned from Theodoric of Bologna about the use of braces for necks and spines, Sister.” Her eyes now shone with a pleasant thought. “Come with me on my next visit to our former prioress!” She glanced at the maid. “Janeta and I visit her weekly. Sister Amicia suffers a sad illness, and you might find the treatment of interest. With her maid there, she will surely feel more comfortable, and I would be grateful for your opinion. Would you be willing to consult in this matter?”

  With proper humility, Sister Anne readily agreed, and the two nuns decided on the time for the visit.

  ***

  As she and Janeta walked away, Anne mulled over what the infirmarian had told her.

  It was noteworthy that the priest had pointedly directed the nuns to a guilty verdict. He might just as easily have emphasized the unlikelihood that Amicia had done anything more than find the body. When Brother Thomas came to visit, Prioress Eleanor could ask him to find out more about Father Pasche.

  Sister Richolda’s willingness to tell her about her observations of the corpse was also interesting. Her demeanor suggested that she was deeply troubled by the verdict, her own role in the nuns’ decision, or perhaps both. Since she seemed eager to meet again, Anne would find a way to explore this aspect more thoroughly.

  But there was one more detail that intrigued her. The infirmarian did not want to discuss any details of her examination in Janeta’s hearing. Was it consideration for the loyal maid whose mistress had been condemned for murder? Was there another reason?

  Surely Sister Richolda’s testimony that Amicia had been too frail to commit the crime would have given comfort to the servant. She would have no need to hide those thoughts from the maid.

  Anne shook her head with bewilderment. It was medicine she cared about, not confusing investigations into the motives for murder, but she owed God penance for her sins last winter. At least He had been kind enough to allow her to share knowledge with this skillful infirmarian who had gained wisdom from those at the hospital in Acre. That, by itself, wa
s worth the hard journey here.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sister Anne felt the area around Eleanor’s ankle.

  The prioress dutifully gasped in pain.

  “Please report to Prioress Emelyne that the ankle is not as swollen but that Prioress Eleanor remains unable to put weight on her injured foot.” With a brief glance at Janeta, the sub-infirmarian began to rewrap the ankle with a fresh herbal poultice which included pounded marshmallow root from Sister Richolda’s supply.

  The maid left the room and shut the door firmly behind her.

  Taking care to walk silently, Anne hurried to the door, listened, then opened it a little so it would not squeak.

  The maid’s footsteps were fading down the hall.

  Cautiously closing the door, Sister Anne turned and chuckled as she saw Prioress Eleanor already out of bed and pacing the room.

  “This inaction is intolerable! I pray for the patience to keep me from revealing my stratagem.”

  “It is the only way we can succeed,” Anne replied and then quickly reached out to grasp her friend’s arm. “Stay away from the window!”

  Eleanor laughed. “You know me well.” With a longing glance at the opened shutters, she stepped back.

  “I have an item to show you that may dampen your impatience and prove the wisdom of your plan.”

  Eleanor stopped pacing. “You have found something?”

  Sister Anne handed her the delicate ring. “I found this under a shrub behind the bench where Mistress Hursel was found slain. The bush is thorny, and thus the area closest to the roots had not been cleared of dead vegetation.”

  Eleanor studied it with a frown. “A fine piece of work, yet we cannot know to whom it belonged nor how it came to be in that place.” With a gentle touch, she ran her finger over the dark red stone.

  “It might be meaningful.” Anne sounded disappointed.

  “I agree. As I thought more on it, I realized that any search of the area would not have been thorough. All believed they had the killer when Prioress Amicia did not deny she had committed the crime.”

  “The ring is unbroken.”

  “Therefore we may conclude it did not break and fall off. Yet the band is thin. Someone either wore the ring often or over many years. If so, it must have been a treasured item.” She held it up to the stronger light. “See here. The band is slightly bent. And the size could only fit a small finger. A woman’s ring, most likely.” Eleanor gave it back to Anne. “Was someone wearing it? If so, why did it fall off? If it was not worn, why did the person carry it with them? And how? In a pouch?” She hesitated for a moment. “And why was it not recovered before you found it?”

  “Might it have been pulled off in a struggle between the killer and Mistress Hursel?”

  “If there had been time for a struggle,” Eleanor replied, “Mistress Hursel would have cried out.” She gazed at the ring resting in her friend’s palm. “I fear it is more likely to have belonged to someone other than the victim or her killer. A nun might have kept it in a pouch, if, for example, it was a gift from a beloved family member. To wear that precious stone would be unsuitable for one now vowed to God. And the garnet suggests the giver possessed some status and wealth.” She smiled briefly. “It interests me that the jewel is red, the color most associated with selfless love, the blood of martyrs, and also redemption.”

  “Then it may have belonged to Prioress Amicia.”

  Eleanor nodded. “As for Mistress Hursel, I doubt it was hers. The ring is too fine to belong to a woman who had been a servant unless she held a special place in the family’s heart. That is unlikely in this instance. The woman had been dismissed after a quarrel with her mistress.”

  “So it also could have belonged to another Hospitaller nun,” Anne replied. “Many come from high-ranking families.”

  “Keep the ring. Perhaps you can find a way to identify the owner without arousing suspicion.”

  “You trust me to proceed with much discretion.”

  “Have I not done so since I first came to Tyndal Priory?” Eleanor did not have to say more. In those early days of her leadership, she had allowed Sister Anne and her once-husband, Brother John, to meet in private, trusting that they would remain chaste.

  “And I shall not disappoint you now.”

  Eleanor again looked longingly at the open window, and then resolved to remain content with a tiny glimpse of the sky. “I have some news that may please you. I have gotten permission for you to accompany the priory infirmarian, Sister Richolda, when she next visits Sister Amicia, as she must now be called.”

  Sister Anne grinned. “How fortunate that has been approved by her! When the infirmarian and I parted, she invited me to do just that, after we had a most interesting conversation in private.”

  Eleanor spun around. “Did she say if she had studied Mistress Hursel’s corpse?”

  “She is a most observant woman and grasped without asking that I was interested.” Anne explained what Sister Richolda had told her about her findings after examining the corpse. She also relayed what the infirmarian had said about the priest and her own suspicions about why Sister Richolda might have chosen to convey the information gathered at the examination to her.

  “Although it should not be difficult, Brother Thomas must find reason to become friendlier with this priest,” Eleanor replied.

  “Sadly, I did not have the time to pursue more details of the stabbing and certainly nothing about this ring.”

  “If you have another moment alone, you can ask her those questions.”

  “She carefully waited to talk to me until after Janeta left the room. I do not know why she felt the need for caution. Janeta is the former prioress’ maid and serves her still. I came to no conclusion. Perhaps she did not want to be seen as gossiping about the servant’s mistress.”

  Eleanor nodded but offered no opinion. “I have also learned sad news. Prioress Emelyne told me that Sister Amicia is suffering from a canker in her breast. She believes she is dying.”

  Anne gasped. “The infirmarian said she had become quite frail of late and suffered an illness, but she did not say what it was.”

  “If Sister Richolda is as wise as you suggest, she may welcome your opinion on this ailment. Whether this influenced her decision not to protest either accusation or condemnation is worthy of consideration, although I cannot imagine why it should. She will soon face God’s judgment.”

  “Might she be protecting someone?”

  “I, too, had considered that. But whom? I fear this problem grows more complex the more we learn.”

  “What do you wish me to do when I accompany Sister Richolda?”

  “Observe all. Ask any question you feel you may without revealing your purpose. I cannot advise more because I cannot be there, but I trust your good judgment.”

  Anne bowed her head.

  “And spend what time you will with the infirmarian on matters that you find useful for our hospital work as well. In the meantime, I will summon Brother Thomas. It is possible he has learned something important that we should know. Perhaps Janeta can take the message.”

  Sighing, the Prioress of Tyndal stared at the bed, knowing that Janeta would soon return and end her precious moment of freedom.

  Once her prioress was safely tucked in, Anne opened the chamber door. As she stepped out, she saw Janeta approaching and told her that Prioress Eleanor wished to see her. Then she left to go to the chapel for prayer since she had missed one of the Offices usually honored at Tyndal.

  The maid entered the room, with head down, and asked what she might do to serve.

  Along with all the other puzzles, Eleanor found the maid to be a riddle. On one hand, Janeta behaved as if she expected to be struck at any moment. Yet she had displayed both sullenness and some arrogance earlier as well.

  A thought to muse on later, she
decided and then said, “I summon Brother Thomas to render his advice on a troubling spiritual matter. Please take the message to him immediately. I must speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Janeta replied and left.

  As the wooden door thudded shut, the silence in the room grew oppressive, and Eleanor began to understand how Amicia might feel, confined to a small cell when she once had had the freedom of a castle and then this priory, a place more open to the world than most religious houses.

  “Yet she will soon enter the realm of eternity and stand before the terrible face and all-seeing eyes of God,” she murmured. A shiver of dread coursed through her.

  One day she must do the same.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Prioress Emelyne glowered at Janeta with a ferocity that the maid’s news did not merit.

  She was so weary, a state that often sparked a flare of temper, but, as she glanced at the stone floor around her, she realized it had grown less cluttered since the last Office. Seeing this progress extinguished the ember of rage that had threatened to blaze. Still, her eyes burned from straining to read far too long in the smoke from the candles.

  “You must do as Prioress Eleanor has requested,” she said. “Tomorrow morning just after the first Office.”

  Janeta kept her head bowed and hands clutched tightly against her waist.

  Why must the woman tremble so? Emelyne found her behavior irritating, although she knew Janeta’s uncertain future gave her cause. Yet she had never liked her and quickly dismissed interest in the maid’s fears.

  “Instead of seeking out Brother Thomas, however,” she continued, “you must first tell Brother Damian that our honored guest wishes to see her monk. Then convey to my dear brother in kinship and faith that Prioress Eleanor seems to be in too much pain to endure such a meeting at present, but I will send word as soon as she is well enough. After delivering that message to my brother, return here forthwith. Brother Damian will speak to the monk.”