Tyrant of the Mind mm-2

by Priscilla Royal

  Robert raised his head when he saw his sister and friend enter. His eyes were raw from weeping, and his cheeks above the beard were tinted pink from the blood his tears had washed from his hands.

  Eleanor knelt in the rushes by her brother’s side, took his stained hands in hers and kissed them. “I believe in your innocence, Robert. Like father, you would not lie even to save your life.”

  As he pulled her hands toward his lips and kissed them in return, Robert gave Eleanor a tired smile. “A clever lass you’ve always been, sweet sister. Were I guilty of this crime, I would now be a quivering wretch, confessing all and huddled at your tiny feet after such soft words.”

  “No, dear brother. Had you been guilty, you would not be huddled at my feet. The weight of your anguish would have caused you to fall to your death from this very tower ere now.” Eleanor looked directly into his eyes for a moment, then her eyes grew fond with the love she bore him.

  “You are not only astute but have a wit so sharp no man of sense would approach you without arming himself in the finest chain mail.” Robert glanced up at Thomas. “How ever do you cope with her at the priory, brother?”

  “Carefully,” Thomas said, then coughed, his face reddening.

  Eleanor was amused at her monk’s blunt response and glanced at him with a gentle look, for surely he had spoken before thinking and must fear that he had offended.

  Robert’s laugh was hearty. “As did Hugh and I when she was with us, even as a child. You see, Eleanor, how the men in your life respect as well as love you.”

  “Tell us what happened,” she said, rising from her knees and seating herself next to her brother on the crisp straw. With luck he would not have noted the heat rising in her face as she wondered if Thomas bore some love for her as well. Perhaps both men would mistake her blush for womanly modesty.

  Her brother’s brief mirth faded and the color in his face paled, but he squeezed her hands gently as if to comfort her. “I am innocent of Henry’s murder. I swear that on any hope I may have of Heaven. Aye, he and I had issue with each other. That I will freely admit, but I did not murder him. I confess that we nearly came to sword’s point today. Yesterday? Which is it now?” He nodded at Thomas. “Was it not you and Father Anselm I heard earlier this morning in the stairwell to the hall when Henry and I were arguing in the castle ward?”

  “Aye.”

  “That was not the first time we have come close to blows.”

  Eleanor frowned. “I remember Henry as an ill-humored boy on occasion, Robert, but he could be sufficiently pleasant too. I recall that you both got along well enough in the past, although you oft had disagreement with each other and you were closer to George. What has caused such hard strife between you now?”

  Robert looked down, then released his sister’s hands. He motioned to a stool. “Please sit, brother. Both you and my sister must be weary. Would you share some wine with me?” He walked over to the ewer and gestured to some cups. “I may be a prisoner here, but my father has not chosen to starve me or to withhold wine from his store.”

  Eleanor nodded approval for Thomas to take refreshment, then refused the same for herself. She watched her brother and waited.

  “I know you await my answer, Eleanor,” Robert said as he concentrated on pouring the wine for Thomas. Then he stared down at his hands and they began to shake. He quickly put the ewer down but could not manage to release the cup he held. “I bear his blood still! I fear I…”

  Thomas rushed over to Robert and took the cup away from him. “I will pour for both of us, my lord, but first let me bring you a basin of water for washing.”

  Robert resumed his seat next to his sister and sat in silence, staring at his hands. When Thomas brought the basin and held it for him, he briefly swirled one hand in the water, his eyes unblinking as he watched the water turn pink with Henry’s blood.

  Eleanor rested her hand on her brother’s arm. He moaned, then sagged forward, his head bowed, his back bent. For all his youth in years, he now had the look of a very frail, very old man.

  “Aye, Henry was tolerable as a child,” he said, at last finding his voice, “although we did quarrel even then. However, you surely knew that he has always fancied the Lady Isabelle. Being of an age, he expected they would be married.” Robert’s words faded into a mumble.

  “As did we all,” Eleanor replied, her voice soft with affection.

  “When his father married her instead, Henry became quarrelsome. On the occasions when our families were together, I watched the worm of jealousy eat away at him until his humors became quite unbalanced. He grew more sullen with his father and his behavior toward his stepmother was often rude when they were alone together. Indeed, she found his manner quite distasteful.”

  “Did she speak of this to her husband?” Thomas asked.

  “I do not know in truth, but her discomfort and Henry’s behavior were surely the subject of common talk. Sir Geoffrey must have been aware, but whether he learned of it from his own observation, from his wife, or another source I do not know. Nor do I know if he and Henry had private words on the matter. The incident at the mid-day meal yesterday, however, was only one of the more extreme public scenes between father and son.”

  “You did know that Lady Isabelle found his attentions inappropriate. Did she speak with you about them? Was this the cause of the hostility between you and Henry?” Eleanor asked.

  Robert stiffened. “She did not need to speak of her feelings. The displeasure was clear from her expression. The matter between Henry and me came to a head in another way altogether. In view of our youthful friendship and the coming union of our families, I saw no reason to avoid contact with the Lady Isabelle. Out of respect to Sir Geoffrey, I never did so unless she was properly attended, and my manner toward her was always both courteous and most brotherly. I soon learned that Henry took offence at any speech I had with her. I decided to avoid her company for fear that my presence would add to her pain.”

  “But you did not continue to avoid her,” Thomas said. “This morning I saw you walking with the Lady Juliana and her stepmother was walking just behind.”

  Robert looked sharply at Thomas. “Aye, but that was different.”

  “You could not have had either lady’s maid with you instead?” Eleanor asked.

  Her brother shook his head. “The Lady Isabelle insisted on accompanying us herself. She has joined with her husband as an ally of the marriage, and we all assumed Henry would be occupied with the family consultations over the union.”

  “What was Henry’s opinion on this wedding?” Eleanor asked.

  “He was not happy. In fairness to the man, now that he lies so foully murdered and cannot speak for himself, I will not conjecture a reason.”

  “I cannot understand why he would be so displeased. You would not be living with the Lavenhams, although the marriage might bring you into more frequent contact with Isabelle.” Eleanor continued to study her brother’s face.

  Robert shrugged. “True.”

  “What were the circumstances of this planned union?” Thomas asked. “Perhaps a clue to his reasons can be found therein?”

  “Brother Thomas’ question has merit. Tell us from the beginning what the circumstances were, Robert.”

  “When our father asked me about the possibility of marriage with Juliana, I told him that I felt no desire for her but I did respect the lady, and such an alliance between our families would surely be a happy one. George assured me that she and I would gain contentment from such a union. Knowing us both well, he felt we would be compatible enough, indeed good companions in a life together. That was quite acceptable to me.”

  Eleanor smiled briefly. “Like our lord father, you are a most practical man.”

  Robert reached out for her hand again. “As children, Juliana and I had liked each other well enough. We probably knew each other better than most, who know nothing of the other spouse until their first intimacy in the marriage bed.”

  “Well s
aid, Robert,” Thomas replied.

  “Surely Henry did not object to the lack of passion between you,” Eleanor said.

  “Nay, George told me that Henry would object to any marriage for Juliana. He wanted her to take the veil.”

  “Why?” Eleanor asked. “He would have saved little by that. A nun must bring land or coin to the convent as surely as a wife does to an earthly husband.”

  Robert shook his head. “I should not suggest reasons that Henry can neither refute nor defend.”

  “The sheriff will not have such scruples, sweet brother. I would rather hear what your thoughts are than a stranger’s.”

  “Perhaps he was afraid that any marriage would take more from his inheritance than he cared to give, that he would surrender less to a convent than to a husband. Perhaps he thought it would bring any man into closer contact with Lady Isabelle and his jealousy could not bear the thought. I have suspected both at one time or another but cannot say which is the more accurate. If either.”

  Perhaps such would be questions to pursue with Sir Geoffrey’s wife, Eleanor thought. “In truth, Isabelle’s behavior was not always an example of modesty and propriety from what I saw. She did tend to fuel the fires of jealousy. At dinner, I saw her hand on your thigh, Robert, something a wife does not do to a man who is not her husband, unless…” She hesitated. “Was such behavior common between you?”

  Her brother flushed. “Nay, sister! It is true that she does love to put flame near wood. Nevertheless, her pleasure is only in watching the fire char the branch. Indeed, what she did last night was more accidental than deliberate. She had had too much wine at dinner.”

  How speedily he has come to her defense, Eleanor noted with concern. She glanced at Brother Thomas and saw his frown. Perhaps he, too, questioned her brother’s all too quick response. She took a deep breath and continued. “Perhaps she had, but now I must ask how it happened that you should be found with Henry’s body, a dagger in your hand, outside the Lady Isabelle’s room while she cowered close by with no sign that her husband was near.”

  “I had had a confrontation with Henry before the midday meal which our father broke up.”

  Thomas nodded.

  “That you were a witness to as well.” Robert’s look darkened, although the monk could not tell if the cause was anger or fear.

  “By accident, my lord. I swear it,” Thomas answered quickly. “I was not spying on you,” he added, his tone gentle.

  “Indeed, I am grateful you were there. Such witnessing may lend verity to the rest of my tale. At that time, as you saw, Henry continued his crude jesting with his stepmother. Later, he and I had, but for the presence of you, brother, been ready to draw arms against each other again. Why he was in the ward at such a late hour, I cannot say. I had been making plans to feed our livestock with this heavy snow upon us and was just returning to the barracks. Perhaps he and I had been too much in each other’s company the last few days, but it seemed we could not bear the sight of one another yesterday without fire sparking tinder. After I left him the second time, my spirit was sufficiently disturbed that I could not sleep.”

  “A reasonable thing, my lady,” Thomas blurted out.

  Remembering Thomas’ own history of nocturnal wanderings at inopportune times, she nodded. “Indeed, I doubt it not. Go on.”

  “I decided to visit our father and seek his advice. He is often up before cock’s crow, and I thought we might talk about the marriage and Henry’s difficulties over it, as well as how I should handle the discord with my future brother-in-law. As I climbed the stairs to the quarters, I heard low voices. I stopped, not wanting to invade the privacy of, well, perhaps some lovers who did not want their tryst known. Then the voices stopped and, after waiting a bit, I continued up the stairs to the hall. I reached the top but saw no one. Suddenly, I tripped in the shadows and fell. My hands landed in something wet and sticky. After I picked myself up, I could see they were stained dark. When I smelled the metallic odor, I knew they were bathed in blood.”

  “Are you saying there was no light but moonlight? When Father Anselm and I passed through, the rushes were dim but lit,” Thomas noted.

  “They must have gone out before I arrived. It was quite dark with the snow falling and all windows barred shut. I did not know I had tripped on Henry’s body so I felt for what had caused me to fall. At first I thought it might be a large animal, a dog perhaps, but quickly realized the shape was that of a man. The body was warm still, but I could not tell who it was. I thought two drunken soldiers might have strayed into the family quarters, an easy enough thing to do, then gotten into a fight where one had fled after wounding his fellow.”

  “How did you light the rushes?” Eleanor asked.

  Robert hesitated. “When I stood up, Isabelle was standing in the door. She had a candle in her hand and reached out to give it to me. I lit the rushes with that, then knelt to see who was lying on the floor. I saw to my horror that it was Henry and the dagger lay beside him. I picked it up. Why I did that, I cannot say. Everything seemed so like a dream. I could not believe what was before me. As I took the knife into my hand, the lady screamed. I froze in horror as I looked down at the blood, which had also soaked into my clothes from my fall on the body. He must have been bleeding freely still. Then the next thing I heard was your voice, Eleanor. The servants grabbed me. You know the rest.”

  “You saw no one else, heard nothing, not even the echo of footsteps running away? No glimpse of a garment?” Eleanor asked.

  Robert shook his head wearily.

  They were all silent for a while, then Eleanor looked over at Thomas. “You are lost in thought, brother.”

  “Aye, my lady.” He turned to Robert. “You say you saw no one yet you had heard voices, perhaps lovers you thought. You must have had reason to conclude that the voices were those of a man and a woman.”

  “I did not recognize them and cannot be certain one of the voices was that of a woman. The pitch of one voice may have been somewhat higher. That is all. Now that you ask me, I cannot say for sure that it was not two men.”

  As he watched Robert lower his head and look down at his feet, Thomas was sure he was lying. The man was not practiced enough at deceit to look another directly in the eye while he twisted the truth.

  Once again, Robert’s shoulders slumped with fatigue and hopelessness.

  Eleanor reached over and hugged her brother. “You must rest. Perhaps more details will come to mind later. In the meantime, I will send for clean clothes and enough warm water to bathe away the blood you are not guilty of shedding.” As she stood, she nodded at Thomas. “Please stay a while and bring my brother some comfort for his soul. Then we must all pray that we find the truth before this storm ceases and we must send for the sheriff to take my brother away to crueler lodgings.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thomas watched his prioress’ brother lean back on his heels and cross himself. Robert had just finished his confession but had said nothing that would guarantee him a greater place in Hell than any other mortal man.

  He had denied the murder. He had denied even wishing Henry dead, although he grieved over his desire to do him at least some bodily harm for insults he had made against the Lady Juliana and for the death of Hywel, an accident Sir Geoffrey had explained was the result of Henry’s thoughtlessness. The nature of the insults against his betrothed he had refused to specify lest they befoul the reputation of the lady. Even with the shadow of a hangman’s rope swinging above his head, Robert of Wynethorpe was a most chivalrous man.

  “You will feel better after you have gotten a tub for bathing and clean clothes, my lord,” Thomas said at last.

  Robert’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You are kind, my friend, kinder than my condition warrants.”

  “One may be kind to a guilty man for the judgment of God is nigh. An innocent man deserves courteous treatment.”

  “Do you not believe that I am innocent of Henry’s murder, Thomas? Your tone is harsh
.”

  “Then you misread the meaning. I cannot believe that a man would lie in confession, knowing he could never deceive God and must soon face Him. That aside, I do believe you are innocent, yet my opinion means little while the truly guilty remains hidden. The harshness you hear in my tone is from worry. I pray the murderer may be discovered ere long.”

  Robert turned away. “Perhaps the killer has already made confession to his priest.” He hesitated. “Has no one ever lied to you in confession?”

  “If anyone ever has, I would not be the one to suffer. Whether or not a man chooses to hide his sins from me is irrelevant. God’s justice will always prevail.”

  “Of that I have no doubt, but, since I am still of this world, I find comfort that you have faith in my innocence.”

  Thomas smiled. “Aye, Robert, that I do. I do not think you killed him.”

  “I did not murder him,” Robert said quickly, then fell silent. “Had I done so, I would have confessed that.”

  Thomas blinked. Was there some significance in his friend’s choice of words? “Can you tell me nothing more about what you saw and heard?”

  Robert stared into space, his brows furrowed with thought. “Nay.”

  “Think on it carefully. Might you not have seen someone when you entered the hall outside the chambers Sir Geoffrey shared with his wife? Something you saw that seemed but a shadow at the time? Your life is in the balance, Robert. Give me even the thinnest thread to follow!”

  Robert stood and walked over to the basin of water that Thomas had put on a small table. For a long moment, he dabbled his fingers in it, staring as the water circled around them. “Nothing,” he said, his whispered voice hoarse.

  “When you heard the voices, however…”

  “In truth, now that I think more on it, I must confess that I spoke too quickly when my sister was here. I heard nothing, unless it was voices in the dining hall. Aye, it must have been that and thus my confusion. It would have been the servants. Nay, I misspoke, Thomas. I heard no speech between two people.”