“Do you have witnesses?”
“Only God,” the monk snapped.
Ralf said nothing in the face of his friend’s anger. He stared at the ground and began grinding his heel into the earth with a circling motion. At last, he looked up, his expression both troubled and cold as stone. “Thomas, you were much disturbed when you saw the murdered man. You examined him at greater length than a man would who was trying to remember a face. You were seen near the body. I believe that you do know more than you are telling me.”
“For the love of God, Crowner, I did not do this deed!”
“My heart may believe you, Thomas, but there is something you are refusing to tell me. Perhaps you did not kill the soldier, but I cannot ignore either what this man says or your unexplained behavior.” He raised one hand in protest. “Nay, do not give me the story about your weakness from hunger. I have yet to know any monk who failed to find bread when he needed it.” Then he hesitated, dropping his voice. “I must say something further. Will you hear it?”
Thomas nodded with angry reluctance.
“You know me to be a man of justice as well as your friend. If you are in any way involved with this murder and tell me so now, I promise you will not suffer cruelly for it. If you are protecting someone…” He waved his hand as the monk began to protest. “Very well, but if you have important knowledge and do not confess it, I promise I will render full justice on you myself. What friendship there was between us ceases.”
Colors from the white of rage to the red of humiliation waved through Thomas’ face. At last, he took a deep breath. “I tell you truly that I fear death and God’s judgment like all mortal men. Had I killed the man that lies within, I would never have returned to Tyndal. No one expected me to arrive when I did, and no one would have been the wiser had I changed course and taken a boat to France. Nor would anyone on the ship question why a man with a tonsure was going to the Holy Land. No, Ralf, I did not kill the man no matter what evidence to the contrary there may be.”
Ralf studied the hole in the ground he had dug with his heel. It was filling with rainwater. “But you know something of it.”
Thomas shrugged with contempt, then turned away.
Ralf gestured at his sergeant to come forward, then reached out and seized the monk by the arm, twisting it ever so slightly behind him as he pulled him back. “On any hope I may have of Heaven, I wish to believe you, Thomas, but your actions belie your words. You know that dead man or something of him. Why else would you act as you did?”
“Of that, I shall not speak,” Thomas snarled.
“Then you leave me no choice but to take you into custody.”
With that, Cuthbert bound the stunned Thomas and led him away into the night.
Chapter Eighteen
“He is innocent.” Eleanor struck her fist on the arm of the chair. “There is no question of it.”
Ralf bowed his head. “My lady, no one could wish him innocent more than I. Nonetheless, I fear there is doubt about his involvement.”
“Doubt? Are we speaking of Brother Thomas, a man we know well?” The prioress enunciated each word with angry precision.
Ralf spread his hands in frustration. “I must keep him in custody until he explains himself. He was seen too near the place where this murderous act took place not to have witnessed something, yet he swears he knows nothing and squirms like the most guilty of men as he does. Beloved though Brother Thomas may be by us…”
“Once again, Ralf, you are following a road no one else would even think of taking.” Anne’s voice shook. “How could you believe the word of a witless man or, if possessed of his wits, possibly the guilty one himself? Brother Thomas would have confessed the crime had he committed it, and that he has not.”
“I did not say he had actually done it, only that he knows more than he will say. Do you not care as deeply as I that an innocent soldier was gutted just outside this priory?” His voice began to rise. “As for confessing to such a deed, Annie, not many men, however honest, would willingly admit to the brutish act.”
Anne folded her arms. “Brother Thomas would. He is a monk.”
Ralf stared at her as if she had just changed shape in front of him. “Have you forgotten what happened here last…? Nay, you surely cannot be so foolish, Annie! Monks are like any other men except for the tonsures they bear.” Then the crowner slammed his hand down on the table. “Or have the cold vows you took frozen your reason as they have that of your fellows in the Church?” he shouted. “A tonsure has never stopped a man from committing crime, and it is time the Church realized the king’s right to punish those who do.”
The air’s heavy chill was matched only by the silence that fell on all in the room.
It was Prioress Eleanor who spoke first. “I think we were speaking of Brother Thomas, Ralf.”
The crowner flushed. “Please forgive these rude words from this sinful man. As you must know, I honor you both and have been humbled, not just by your devotion to God but by your equal dedication to mortal justice.”
Anne turned her back to the crowner.
“Your words are forgotten,” Eleanor said, knowing that few did ever forget these outbursts. Indeed, her own anger was hot, but the pain she saw in Ralf’s eyes began to soften her heart with sadness. She had long suspected the love he bore her sub-infirmarian and knew well the troubled relationship the crowner had with his two elder brothers, especially the one in the Church. “If you do not believe that our good brother killed this man,” she went on, “please explain why you put him under guard in a priory cell. Placed there, I might add, without my permission.” She sat back and met the crowner’s gaze with firmness. “Need I remind you that I am his superior here and the only one with the authority to say that this might be done?”
Ralf bowed with profound respect. “Thus I came to you immediately, my lady. If you will, set aside my own suspicions. Would you not agree, however, that it would be most foolish to ignore Brother Thomas’ presence near the place where the killing took place?”
Eleanor said nothing.
“The monk turns pale.” The crowner’s tone was tense. “He faints when he sees the dead man. Then he not only looks at the face, sweating as he does, but he studies the man’s hands as if he were looking for something specific. Is this what you would do if you had only seen the man in passing, a man who meant nothing to you?”
The prioress did not move.
“Later, when I asked him to explain his behavior, he refused. Why? I swear Brother Thomas knows who the victim is but, for some unexplained reason, will not say.”
“So might any man sweat and pale if questioned as if he were already judged guilty of the crime.” Sister Anne had turned around. Her eyes were rimmed with red.
Ralf swallowed but ignored the remark. “Would I be serving justice if I ignored my observations of the good brother’s behavior as I do most fervently wish I could?” Pleading with Eleanor, he stretched out a hand. “After all the years I have spent hunting those who defy the king’s laws, I do recognize the behavior of guilty men. Surely you will acknowledge that.”
The prioress nodded. “I respect your skill, Ralf. Nevertheless, might you not wonder more about this witness of yours as Sister Anne has suggested? Why do you not suspect that he is your killer?”
“I did not dismiss this conclusion.” Ralf shifted uncomfortably. “Brother Beorn told me that some had noticed the man and his strange behavior in the village several days before the murder took place. The innkeeper confirms that the soldier was only at the inn two nights, and no one has claimed that the two ever spoke. If this fellow was behaving like a madman before the soldier even came here, I cannot conclude that his antics were intended to hide himself from suspicion.”
Eleanor nodded for him to continue.
“He claims to be a pilgrim on the way to Norwich where he hoped he might be cured of his affliction. In fact, he freely admitted to me that he is not always wi
tless, my lady, but rather suffers episodes of madness. Based on what I have been told, there is no reason to suspect he is lying. Finally, he did not say our good brother was the murderer, only that he had seen him standing near where the soldier died.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “My lady, I would suffer reproach for letting Brother Thomas remain free in view of his behavior and proximity to the crime.”
“And thus you took this stranger’s word over that of a respected servant of God, a man who has also demonstrated an honest courage as you yourself well know?” Anne’s words dripped with contempt.
Ralf bent forward with fatigue and braced his hands against the table. “It takes strength to mutilate a man as someone did our soldier. The madman is slight…”
“Unlike Brother Thomas?” Anne snapped. “So you are now saying that he could have committed…”
“One moment, please, Sister!” Eleanor looked with puzzlement at the crowner. “Ralf, you just said you would be rebuked if you did not take my monk into your custody? By whom? Surely no one in either this priory or village?”
Ralf shook his head.
“I cannot believe that you are being swayed by something other than the pursuit of justice. You have never been one to care much for anything else.”
Ralf exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyes as if they hurt. “The victim was a crusader. As my dear brother would say in his quaint way, this fact makes the murder something more than a simple country matter.”
“Your brother’s views have rarely troubled you before, my friend. Why this sudden change?” Eleanor asked.
“Until now, the sheriff has stayed at court to increase his prestige, while leaving me to maintain order in the shire as I see fit. Now that our good king’s health fails, there has been a change. In the last few months, my brother has demanded both detailed reports on shire crime and speedy punishment of malefactors. I suspect he fears that Prince Edward might not like sheriffs who are perceived as weak on crime.”
“How can any man know which way our prince may turn?” Eleanor replied.
“Aye, but all may assume one thing with certainty. The Lord Edward is a soldier and cares much for the men who joined him in the Holy Land. Thus, the murder of any returning crusader on English soil will have the attention of powerful men even beyond the shire. If I do not pursue this matter vigorously, my brother will be counted as weak. That he will not tolerate. In short, my lady, I will be directed in this matter.”
“Like our Lord, King Henry has shown mercy to prisoners and forgiven many who have repented their sins,” Anne began. “Once on so godly a path, why would we change?”
“And our king has been roundly condemned as womanly for just these actions. I doubt the Lord Edward will be so soft, and my brother has made it clear that he does not wish to lose all by seeming lenient on crime and felons. If I should fail him in any way he deems significant, he has already said that he will replace me with one of his more pliant fellows. This killing of a crusader is this kind…” Ralf looked from Prioress Eleanor to Sister Anne. “Despite my rude ways, do you not think that I am still a better crowner than such a replacement?”
“Your brother is not the only one who hopes to be wearing the latest style when the season changes. No one, however, would ever accuse you of caring about the cut of your clothes. Aye, we all much prefer the crowner we now have, a man who has always worn the unchanging attire of an honest man.” Eleanor paused. “The arrest of an innocent person may be swift, but I would hardly call it just. How could it satisfy the sheriff?”
“I have not arrested Brother Thomas, my lady. I have put him into cautionary custody in a priory cell that remains under your control. From my brother’s perspective, a man seen near a corpse around the time of the killing, who has failed to act in a forthright manner even to someone he calls friend, should not remain free.”
“A monk, not just a man,” Eleanor added.
“Monk or no, my brother would find it unjustifiable to let him remain free. By putting Brother Thomas into custody, a most comfortable confinement in fact, I will have shown firmness in this matter. As for arresting an innocent man for the crime, I would never do that. Do you not both know me better than to think I would?”
Eleanor remained silent for some time, then reached out and touched the crowner gently on the arm. “You have logic in what you have done,” she said. “Nonetheless, do not forget that Brother Thomas is under my jurisdiction as representative of Church justice. He is not under the rule of your brother or even King Henry, and I retain the right to overturn this act. Nevertheless, I shall allow it for the time being. If the confinement is brief and the true murderer quickly found, I would prefer you continue in your brother’s favor. Should I find good reason to reverse this action, however, I shall. In the meantime, you are…”
“…continuing the investigation, my lady. I believe there may be others who traveled along the same road as our good brother and the man who identified him. Although I do not want to aggravate whatever ill brought them to your care, I beg permission to bring those who can walk to the chapel to view the corpse’s face. Let us hope that one of them will know more of the corpse.”
“You have my permission, and a lay brother will be assigned to assist you.” Eleanor continued, “Should you wish to question any of the women on the other side of the hospital…”
“Few women travel alone, and only a man would have had the strength to do this deed. Thus I do not think…”
“Yet one might have been a witness. If you do judge it advisable to question any woman, I will make arrangements for it.”
“As always, you are kind, Prioress.”
Not kind at all, the prioress thought, for you know well that you are in my debt, not only for my concession in this matter, but also for my silence over that business last year. “As for Brother Thomas,” she said at last, “I wonder if Sister Anne can get the truth from him. They have developed a friendship from their work together in the hospital.”
“If anyone could, Annie might.” Ralf looked sheepishly at the nun.
“Perhaps he will be more forthcoming soon, my lady.” Anne ignored him, but her eyes suddenly regained some mild hint of humor.
“Whatever do you mean?” the prioress asked.
“When Brother Matthew learned that our good priest had been detained, he rushed to him, swearing to wrestle any devil from Brother Thomas’ soul. I do believe they have been together for at least an hour now.”
“An hour?” Ralf asked.
Eleanor cringed.
Chapter Nineteen
Thomas’ knees were growing numb. His spirit, however, ached with fear. Although it was cold in the cell, he was sweating, and the roar of his beating heart resounded in his ears like the screams of condemned souls. He would have sworn the stone walls were leaning forward ever so slowly to crush him. Trying not to cry out, he bit his lip, drawing blood. He was still amongst the living, he realized, and took a deep breath. The howling in his head faded. He had not yet gone completely mad.
Nor had he been condemned, he reminded himself, and the man who had sealed him up in this cell was his friend, a man known to be just. He inhaled deeply once more. This air might be redolent of rodent, but the scent was of dusty fur and dried feces. Almost soothing, he said to himself, attempting to lighten his mood. These were healthy rats and mice, not vermin glutted with human flesh that had shared the cell with him in London. This was not the London prison, he willed himself to remember, although the effort to do so was increasingly difficult.
Thomas began to shake again. Nay, he would not dwell on London: the sweetish stench of ripe carcasses, men and rats; the pain of the rough chains rubbing his bleeding flesh from his ankles and wrist. Despite his determination, memory shattered his resolve. Foul panic now flooded his heart like night soil washing through the middle of a city street.
He forced his eyes open and tried to concentrate on his current place of imprisonment. This is no cell,
he repeated slowly. This is a storage room for priory supplies.
Although there were no windows to let in light, Ralf had left him a cresset lamp, the curved depressions in the stone filled with oil and the floating wicks alight. The flames did cast shadows on the rough walls, and Thomas tried not to think about those shades, seeing mocking spirits and twisting demons in them. Instead, he tried to concentrate on the kindness of Sister Anne, who must have brought the lamp from the dormitory, and the man he still hoped to call friend.
Thomas slumped back on his heels, weary with his efforts to fight both panic and madness. This room might be a storage room, but it had a troubling past of its own. The last person held here had also been accused of murder. With that thought, Thomas bent over and moaned aloud, too exhausted any longer to hide his agony.
“Are you praying, Brother?” a reedy voice asked.
“That I am, Brother Matthew. That I am.” Indeed, Thomas thought, if ever I could pray, it would be now.
“Then stop wriggling. A man filthy with sin itches only for God’s forgiveness and thinks not of his weak knees.”
Before Thomas could respond, the door to the storage room swung open. Framed in the light of the doorway was the outline of a very tall woman.
“Brother Matthew,” Sister Anne said. “Our prioress has asked that you attend Sister Ruth. Our sub-prioress has a point of theology she has struggled to understand, and she begs for your wise teaching.”
Brother Matthew uncoiled himself from his knees, then picked tiny bits of something from his robe. “I will come immediately. A worthy woman, Sister Ruth, one who knows the limitations of her sex.” He gazed upward. “Would that all women were as wise as she.” Lowering his eyes, he glared at the sub-infirmarian.
Someone, Thomas was sure, had just stifled a snort.
“You know the way to our prioress’ lodgings. I would accompany you but our lady has asked that I see to Brother Thomas’ needs.”
“Even monks can be tempted by woman’s wiles. A nun should never be alone with a man.”
Sorrow Without End Page 9
