Wild Justice

by Priscilla Royal

  The leader of Mynchen Buckland priory looked over her shoulder, her eyes dulled with sadness. “I, too, have sinned.”

  “As have we all,” Eleanor replied, “but your confession must be given to your priest, as my wickedness shall be to mine.”

  Walking back to the ewer, Emelyne poured wine into a fresh cup and offered it with a bow of humility to the Prioress of Tyndal. “In the spirit of our mutual desire for truth, I offer you this admission, one you must hear before I take it to my priest.”

  Eleanor took the cup as the gesture of appeasement it was meant to be.

  “It was Father Pasche who insisted that our former prioress be accused of murder and tried in Chapter. Before the evidence was heard, my brother also came to me and argued for her guilt. He said that her refusal to deny her crime was as good as a confession but conceded that, if she did declare her innocence and gave convincing testimony on her own behalf, he would agree that she was most likely innocent.”

  “That argument has merit.” Eleanor hid her dissatisfaction with Brother Damian’s approach. Of course, she should find out precisely why Amicia had refused to defend herself, but she was fully convinced it held no suggestion of guilt in the murder of the butcher’s widow. It seemed more important to find out why both the priest and Brother Damian had been so insistent on finding her guilty.

  Emelyne misread what she saw in her fellow prioress’ face, and her lips twitched with a brief smile. “As we each know, elder brothers have the power of persuasion.” She sighed and put down her mazer. “And thus I sat in Chapter with my other sisters in God and listened to Sister Richolda say that our prioress was too frail to have committed the crime, while Father Pasche argued that Satan can give any mortal great strength to sin if the soul is weak.” She bowed her head. “And I have since learned that the Prince of Darkness can also blind the soul to truth with the brilliant fire of ambition. Thus I failed to raise any questions that might have led to her acquittal, or at least to find there was no good evidence to convict her without further inquiry.”

  Her expression devoid of any censure, Eleanor waited for her to continue.

  “My brother and I both knew that my election to head this priory was almost certain. Many of us had been aware of Prioress Amicia’s failing health for some time. Discussion amongst the nuns about who should be our next prioress had already begun. My name was the most frequently mentioned.”

  “Such talk reasonably occurs when an election seems imminent.”

  “My brother was eager that I be chosen to lead Mynchen Buckland as soon as possible. My own desire to rise to the position was equally strong. Neither of us saw any cause for the election not to occur sooner, in view of Prioress Amicia’s poor health. If she lingered, but was incapable of functioning in her position, someone would have to ease her burdens until she died. It was better, we both agreed, if I could be elected before that happened and provide stability in leadership.”

  “And thus you agreed on her guilt.”

  “It was not that simple. Neither of us admitted the strength of our mutual ambition. Instead, we spoke of it as a wise course of action. There would be no harm done. Prioress Amicia has no children in the world and no close kin. We thought it likely she was guilty. Who else could it have been?”

  “Murder is a vile crime. It so defiles the soul that even God must find it hard to forgive.”

  “But my brother and I also agreed that we would beg the Prior of England for mercy in view of her illness.” She looked at Eleanor with pleading eyes. “If she were innocent, God would know that as well!”

  “Did Brother Damian say why he especially wanted you to be elected prioress here so soon? You and I both know there was another motive beyond the practical.”

  “Family honor,” she said. “To have a brother knight named a commander of men while his sister is elected the commander of women would bring credit to our kin.”

  Eleanor was not convinced but said nothing. To head this tiny commandery of men was not a great honor for Brother Damian, although having his sister lead the only preceptory of Hospitaller nuns in England might be. Ambition is an odd sin. Often the prize glows brightly only in the eyes of the sinner.

  Emelyne bridled at her companion’s silence. “Lest you wish to accuse me, I did not kill Mistress Hursel. When the crime was committed, I was in the chapel with several other nuns, praying for the souls of our dead benefactors. Ask for confirmation, if you will, but I beg that it be done privately.”

  Biting back a sigh of relief that there were witnesses to the innocence of Prioress Emelyne, a woman she could not like but did see grounds to respect, Eleanor assured her that such corroboration would not be needed.

  But now she prayed that Emelyne might have an insight that would allow her to see how the murder of the butcher’s widow was linked to that of the young lay brother. “Mistress Hursel was not the only one killed. Brother Martin was, as well,” Eleanor said, hoping this revelation would so shock the prioress that she would say something important without realizing what it meant.

  “That was an accident! Brother Thomas confirmed it.”

  Eleanor caught Emelyne’s inability to look at her when she spoke those words. “Brother Thomas now believes otherwise,” she replied tactfully. “Perhaps he spoke too quickly after he saw your brother’s immense grief over the boy’s death. An accidental death is hard enough to bear, but, if the young man had committed self-murder, might that have caused your brother even greater sorrow? I fear the good monk may have chosen compassion for your brother over his better judgment.”

  “I should have been informed of his change of opinion. I was not, nor, I believe, was my brother.”

  The complaint was valid, but Eleanor noted there was little bite of reproach in Emelyne’s words.

  “And I am doing so now. I have not known of this long. Sister Anne and I have had few opportunities to discuss everything she and Brother Thomas spoke about that evening. As you know, Sister Anne joins all your nuns for prayer. The hours pass quickly in performing our duties to God.”

  “Are you saying you think the two deaths are linked?”

  “Most likely.”

  Prioress Emelyne rubbed at the corners of her reddened eyes. “Then I shall directly reply to your concerns about any guilt I might own in this second death. I am overwhelmed with the work of taking over priory business. On occasion, I have missed the hours of prayer and even taken my meals in my chambers. Under no circumstances could I have gone to the fishponds and pushed Brother Martin into the water. Ask the nun who stays outside my chamber door until the last Office of the day.”

  A good response, Eleanor thought, nor does she know about the crushed skull. “Can you think of anyone who might have done so?”

  “Not my brother. He loved Brother Martin like a son. Your monk saw him weeping over his body. And ask yourself how easy it would be for Damian, with only one hand, to drown him? As for Father Pasche, he was either with my brother in chambers or in the company of your monk, unless I am mistaken about the time the lay brother drowned. The lad was an innocent. I cannot imagine why anyone would have killed him.”

  Recalling what Brother Thomas had said, Eleanor wondered if the youth was not quite as innocent as he was assumed to be. She chose not to say this and instead asked, “Do you know of any reason why someone would have wanted to kill Mistress Hursel?”

  “I have heard that she was not well-loved in the village, but I cared little for the telling of idle tales and had no interest in learning why. Since she never came to our priory, I did not meet her.” With a frown, she looked down at her mazer, realized there was still wine in it, and drank. “My brother knew more of her ways and had no fondness for her, once calling her a collector of secrets. He was friends with the husband of our former prioress. Damian was very loyal to him, for it was he who saved my brother’s life after his hand was cut off. When he learned Mi
stress Hursel had been dismissed from service, he was pleased and I wondered if he thought the woman was telling scurrilous lies about his friend. When Damian heard the woman had married our local butcher, he was angry for days.”

  Eleanor dared not ask but tilted her head with a questioning look and prayed the prioress would not be offended.

  Emelyne read the question well. “Nay, my brother could not have killed the woman. He and I share a tendency to choler, but his rages destroy only doors and candlesticks. His words do sometimes wound people, but that is not murder.”

  Eleanor knew it was not the time to debate that conclusion.

  Emelyne chose to continue the defense of her brother. “In truth, I thought he should have joined a more contemplative Order. As a boy, he was devout but never showed a warrior’s enthusiasm for battle. Perhaps he would have become a Benedictine, had one of our uncles not risen to high rank in this Order, and I suspect our father may have made the choice for Damian.”

  “Perhaps he longed to regain Jerusalem and enter the gates as a pilgrim.”

  “Nay!” she snapped. “It was because our father would have mocked him as a womanly boy if he did not take up arms as a knight.” Emelyne suddenly drew back, realizing she had said more than she wished. “But that is irrelevant to the crimes here.”

  To keep peace, Eleanor simply nodded. “And Father Pasche? Did he know Mistress Hursel?”

  “Perhaps you have already learned this, but our priest is the brother of Prioress Amicia’s dead husband.” She waited for a reaction but saw none. “Yet he has resided here for many years and entered the priesthood before his brother married her. On rare occasions, he visited them. I doubt he even knew who Mistress Hursel was among the many servants there.”

  “One last question, Prioress Emelyne. Sister Anne found a red-jeweled ring with a gold band that was lost in the cloister garth and showed it to Sister Richolda in hopes she might know the owner. The infirmarian recognized it as belonging to your former prioress and returned it to her. Did you ever see it or know anything of its origins?”

  Emelyne looked up as she thought about the question. “I once saw her take it out of her pouch and kiss it but did not know why she kept it after taking vows. In our Order, we are allowed to keep a small item or two that reminds us of a loved one, usually now dead. Perhaps it had belonged to her mother or had been a gift from her husband? But just before Amicia’s conviction, I noticed Janeta with it. She was gazing at the ring in the light of a window, and then she put it into her own pouch. At the time, I wondered if she had stolen the ring, but I had never heard any rumors that she was a thief. So I concluded that our prioress lost it, the maid found it, and was planning to return it. I thought no further on it.”

  With that, Prioress Eleanor thanked Prioress Emelyne for the help she had given. Then she said that she and her monastics would be leaving the next day. “I beg that you find a way to release Amicia without delay and let her die without the infamy of a cruel verdict,” she added.

  “You are leaving without finding the murderer?” Emelyne was as surprised as Sister Anne had been.

  And that might have amused Prioress Eleanor if she had not been so grieved over the next step she must take. “If it so pleases Him, God may yet reveal the killer, but I will not abuse your charity beyond tomorrow,” she replied. “Should He enlighten me with the identity of the murderer, I swear you will not be kept in ignorance long, even if circumstances demand I take swift action before doing so.”

  Emelyne frowned as if insulted, then seemed to change her mind and nodded acquiescence. “I shall do as you ask about our former prioress. It would also relieve me if she were able to die with the knowledge that we have all found her innocent.”

  “I must ask a favor of Janeta,” Eleanor said. “Can you spare her for a short while?”

  Emelyne agreed, eager to return to the interrupted review of her accounting rolls. “I shall be in my chambers, should you need me, as may my brother. I have found something troubling that requires consultation with him.”

  Eleanor firmly shut the door behind the woman so she might have some brief moments of prayer. To reach the end of this sad journey, she needed all the strength God could give her. She may have begun with a kind oath that she would do her best to prove Prioress Amicia innocent, but what she must do now filled her with bitter sorrow.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The maid’s skin was sallow, and the circles underlining her eyes were like bruises. Staring at the floor, she resembled a child waiting to be whipped.

  With interest, Eleanor noted that she had folded her hands under her belly, although there was no evident sign that Janeta was with child.

  “The ring which your mistress gave you and you lost has been found.”

  Janeta did not look up nor did she speak.

  “Sister Anne found it in the cloister garth, under a thorny shrub and behind the bench where Mistress Hursel was killed.” Eleanor reached out and touched the mended pouch at the maid’s waist. “Did the bush tear this in your hurry to escape?”

  The maid raised one hand, pressed it against her belly, and whimpered.

  In that moment, Eleanor was filled with agonizing grief over what she was doing and begged God to give her a sign that she was horribly wrong. Yet she knew she had little choice but to continue. “Who got you with child?”

  Janeta cried out and turned as if she wanted to flee.

  Eleanor grabbed her shoulder and, despite the difference in their sizes and strength, easily spun her around.

  With a howl of pain, the maid fell to her knees and began to pound the floor with her fists.

  Kneeling beside her, the prioress spoke gently. “Was it Father Pasche? Brother Damian?” She took a deep breath and grasped the young woman more firmly. “Or was it Brother Martin?”

  Lifting her head, Janeta stared at her tormentor. Her eyes glittered as if reflecting the eternity of flames she faced. “We did not mean to sin,” she murmured. “We often spoke when I went to the commandery with messages for Brother Damian. One day I took the path from the road to the fishponds and saw him surveying the damage done by the spring rains and rising water. He told me he feared the fish could not survive in the foul weeds and mud, and his cheeks were damp with tears.” Gasping, she bent over and wrapped her arms around herself. “He was so caring and gentle.”

  The sins committed in this tragedy were dire, but Eleanor found herself begging God for a kinder resolution.

  “I longed to comfort him, took him into my arms, and gave him a kiss on his cheek. He kissed me back. I gave him gentle caresses to soothe his sorrow, and he began to touch me as well.” For a fleeting moment, Janeta’s face softened with happiness. “I chased away his sadness, He eased my loneliness. But the Devil saw us and laughed at our foolish innocence. He filled our bodies with his hellish fire until our longing to grow closer became more than we could bear.” Grief again overcame her. “As we coupled, we felt no sin. Instead, we thought we had found the Garden of Eden and soon fell asleep in each other’s arms.”

  Eleanor wanted to tell the maid how much she understood, even if the joy she had felt herself had only been in sinful dreams. But instead she sat back and withdrew her hand from the woman’s shoulder. “Did you meet often to lie together?” she asked and regretted her harsh tone.

  Janeta flinched, and her lips twisted with hostility. “We never did again. When we awoke, Mistress Hursel was standing over us, laughing at our nakedness. She swore we would pay for our wickedness but promised to wait until she had a price she wanted us to pay. Then she left. It was only then that he and I looked at each other and felt the shame of Adam and Eve after they had tasted the forbidden apple.”

  “So you quickened with Brother Martin’s child,” Eleanor whispered.

  The maid nodded and caressed her belly with protective tenderness.

  “Why did yo
u not confide in your mistress that Brother Martin had broken his vows with you and what Mistress Hursel threatened? Or had Prioress Amicia been convicted by then?”

  “How could I? She was dying. When she told me, she gave me the ring so I might sell it. It was the only thing she could bequeath, but then she begged me to enter the priory as a lay sister. She had no use for the world and urged me to abandon it after her death. I had not yet realized I was with child. When I did, I could not burden her with all my sins.”

  “And then Mistress Hursel came to the priory?”

  “Just after she arrived and asked for my mistress, she told me my time had come to pay her price. She was certain I had been paid well to keep Prioress Amicia’s secrets. I told her I had never been paid to remain silent about anything. She accused me of lying, said she knew better, and swore she would tell my mistress how I had committed sacrilege by seducing a man vowed to God. If I did not immediately bring her the coin I had hidden away, she would make sure I was dismissed that very day for whoring in God’s priory.”

  Eleanor sat without moving and wanted to weep. The time for tears, however, would come later.

  “I knelt and swore I would find a way to pay her if she did not tell my mistress. It must be now, she said, for she had no reason to trust me after I had just lied to her. So I agreed and started to leave when Satan once more took possession of me. I turned around and told Mistress Hursel that her chain was coming undone and I would fix it. I slipped behind her, stabbed her with my dining knife, tossed that aside, and fled.”

  “But you went to your mistress to announce the arrival of the woman you had just killed.”

  Janeta nodded, her expression dulled by remembering events she did not fully understand herself. “Father Pasche had just arrived, and she told me to provide refreshment until she returned. He insisted I take him to the garth because he also knew of Mistress Hursel. I did, and we found my mistress with the corpse and blood on her hands.”