Sister Anne was surprised when Eleanor did this, glanced at the young woman, and then nodded to the prioress with understanding.
“Prioress Eleanor and I questioned Mordredus after he was taken to our small priory cell,” Thomas explained to the sub-infirmarian who had not been present.
“Since the attack by Didier was vicious, he did not protest the indignity of his incarceration,” the prioress said. “After his wounds were cleaned and treated by the hospital lay brother, I explained that he would be made as comfortable as possible and that the decision to place him in a guarded cell was as much to protect him as anything else.”
“And Abbot Didier?” Sister Anne thanked Gracia for the cup but noticed the hesitant glance the young woman gave the parchment on the table. Had the prioress not hidden the drawing quickly enough?
“He is satisfied that the man he thinks is a murderer is locked away and under guard.”
“What of Abbot Ancell?” Sister Anne regretted she could not have been there for the interrogation but understood that the abbots would have objected. It must have been hard enough to tolerate the presence of Prioress Eleanor.
“He saw nothing. After Didier left for the garderobe, Ancell went into his own chambers to escape Mordredus, a man whom he dislikes. When he heard that man leave the dining chamber as well, he came out and went to the window where he fell into a musing on the definition of virtue. According to him, that is a debate he enjoys having with himself.” Prioress Eleanor hesitated. “He said Abbot Didier returned to the dining hall shortly after but had the courtesy not to interrupt his contemplations. Mordredus was not far behind. Ancell chose to ignore them both and continue with his thoughts until Didier screamed and the fight began.”
“Brother Anthony confirmed that. When he arrived back, the abbot was standing by a window, clearly deep in thought, and Didier did arrive as claimed,” Thomas said. “Then Mordredus entered and seemed bent on starting an argument over who drank the last of the ale.”
Sister Anne shook her head in amazement over the petty concerns of men who ruled great abbeys.
Eleanor sighed. “Abbots Ancell, Didier, and Odo have been assigned guards. To watch over them, Brother Beorn picked a former blacksmith, a well-scarred crusader, and a brawny fisherman from among the lay brothers. No abbot has any wish to venture from his quarters. Their servants will accompany the food from the new kitchen and serve their masters’ meals under the vigilant eyes of our lay brothers.”
“Do you think Abbot Mordredus is telling the truth?” Sister Anne looked at the floor where the great orange cat was patiently waiting for her to pet him. She willingly bent to do so.
“Before I express any opinion on this or who might even be the killer, Brother Thomas has news which you must hear first.” Eleanor gave permission to the monk to speak.
Thomas repeated his discussions with the elderly couple and the man who had benefited from the salve for his rash. “Two men have escaped, however. One may not be the man we want, but I have my doubts about the other. We could have lost the killer.”
“I pray not, Brother, but I discovered some information in my herbals which suggests hope. I believe that tansy may well have been used to kill Abbot Ilbert. If he suffered from attacks of wind, tansy in a small dose can bring ease. In a much larger amount, it is fatal. The symptoms he exhibited match those of one suffering a surfeit of the herb.”
“Tansy? You have prescribed that for Sister Ruth,” he said.
“And for that ailment. I blame myself for not realizing the significance of one special problem with the remedy. If handled without caution, it produces a rash.”
Thomas gasped. “The man to whom I gave the salve…”
“He suffers from just such an affliction on his hands,” Eleanor said.
“And the treatment has not yet caused the symptoms to disappear, although it has lessened the redness.” Thomas hesitated as he saw his prioress about to speak.
“I have already sent for Ralf and his sergeant,” she said. “You and Sister Anne must accompany them to examine the man’s hands.”
“My question about Abbot Mordredus shall wait,” the sub-infirmarian said. “If this man at the inn is the one we seek, he may well name the one who ordered the killings, unless he himself is the sole murderer.”
There was a knock at the audience chamber door, and Gracia rushed to open it.
Ralf and his sergeant, Cuthbert, stood outside.
Chapter Thirty-three
Brother Thomas waited outside the inn with Sister Anne and her lay sister attendant.
Standing away from the entrance, the trio was discreetly hidden from view. Although the sub-infirmarian had occasionally come to the village, those instances had involved violent death or an illness that might cause terrified villagers to wonder if God had sent a fatal plague to destroy them like Sodom and Gomorrah. Neither was something the monastics wished to suggest lest it cause panic.
Ralf and Cuthbert had just walked into the inn with cheerful demeanors, suggesting that their visit was a casual one. The village locals were accustomed to seeing the men stop by for a companionable cup of ale. To avoid frightening Signy’s good customers away with any suggestion of coming violence, the two greeted particular friends and soon sought the innkeeper to quietly explain why they were there.
Skillfully feigning cheerfulness, Signy described in a low voice where the wanted man lay, suggested they remove him through the kitchen, and offered her house across the road for the interrogation.
Cuthbert used the kitchen entrance to slip outside and alert the religious to the plan, then the sergeant went back to join the crowner.
The three monastics hurried to Signy’s home.
As she opened the door, Sister Anne was relieved to see that the innkeeper’s foster children were not there, although a poppet was seated on a small stool, snuggly wrapped up in a colorful scrap of wool. A heavy slingshot hung from a peg in the wall. She smiled, remembering when Ralf had given it to Nute.
In silence, they waited for the crowner and Cuthbert to bring them the man they sought for examination.
***
Ned was sleeping on his straw mat, the cheapest lodging available at Signy’s inn. When Cuthbert shook him awake, and the man saw the scowling visage of the crowner above him, he paled but offered no resistance. With little effort, the king’s men led him down the stairs, through the kitchen door, and into the house where Sister Anne awaited.
“Stretch forth your hand,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. Brother Thomas gripped one arm and held it steady so she could carefully examine the irritation. It may have faded in color but oozing blisters and thickened skin remained. “When did you last handle the tansy?” Her expression was now as frosty as the outside air.
Ned looked first at the two men standing by the house entrance and next at the tall, muscular monk holding his arm.
Thomas grasped him with slightly greater firmness to emphasize that the man might find cooperation more reasonable.
“Tansy? How did you…?” The suspect began to tremble.
Ralf put his hand on his sword hilt and walked up to the man. “You are the one who offered to help the abbots at the inn where they stayed the night before they came to the priory here.” He clasped Ned’s shoulder and squeezed it hard. “You helped their servants with the meals. Then you accompanied them here.”
“I did, my lord. No law prevents me from doing any of that.”
“Has some imp changed you into an autumn leaf? You shake like one in the wind.” Ralf crouched to stare into the man’s widening eyes.
Despite emitting a strong reek of terror, the trapped suspect tried to stare boldly at his inquisitor. “If you were not the king’s man, would you not do the same if a man with a sword shook you awake and asked you about an innocent act as if it were a treasonous thing?”
“I t
hink you know you committed a crime and fear hanging.”
Ned paled. “I have done nothing to warrant that, my lord! Of what do you accuse me?”
Ralf raised an eyebrow that was halved by a scar from a long ago battle.
“I swear an oath of innocence on my soul’s hope of heaven!”
“Tell us the tale of how you came to meet the abbots at the inn and begged to serve them.” The crowner sat back on his haunches but made sure he could still easily draw the dagger at his waist if not his sword.
Looking at the sub-infirmarian and monk, the man’s eyes begged for mercy but found none reflected back at him from their gazes.
The lay sister had bent her head and ignored him.
“I am not a patient man, knave,” the crowner warned, “nor do I find your stinking company worth more than a brief moment. You are a thief, stealing me away from the attention I should be spending on the king’s more pressing duties. A dank cell with a few hungry rats can hold obstinate criminals who waste a crowner’s time.”
“Nay, my lord! I am willing enough to tell my tale. My cousin, who serves Abbot Didier, sent word that I should meet the abbots at that particular inn. The message said that Abbot Mordredus might have some work for me.” He looked pitiful. “I needed money, my lord. The winter is hard, and I have no master.” He coughed and looked around. “A drink for my dry throat, my lord? Out of charity?”
Ralf ignored his plea. “How did your cousin know that the abbots would arrive at the inn when they did? Travel is never certain in winter.”
“I do not know. You must ask him. Perhaps a horse lost a shoe….”
“And where were you?”
The man turned pale. “Ale, my good lord?”
“Continue with your story, knave. Then I shall decide if you have been honest enough to deserve that munificence, but also do not forget that men who live with outlaws in the forest are due little mercy. I have no doubt you know such men well.”
Ned gulped and went on in a voice made hoarse from terror. “I am no kin to outlaws! It was honest work I sought. My cousin told me to suggest I worked at the inn and must appear desirous of employment in a more righteous place. Since it was a remote area, he assumed there would at least be whoring. If I offered to help with the serving of the meal to ensure none of the abbatial party would be contaminated by sin, Abbot Mordredus would look even more favorably upon my plight.” He stared at his feet.
Ralf bent closer and hissed into his ear. “I am swiftly losing patience.”
The man wiped sweat from his eyes. “I did as I was advised, spoke to the abbot, and was greeted kindly. He asked me what I might do about the serving of the meal, and when I replied, he agreed to the plan. In the kitchen, I spoke with each servant and tried to accommodate the desires of each abbot. When I conveyed the demands to the cook, she was furious because they made more work for her. But I did my best.” He tried to puff out his chest. “I was very forceful.”
Brother Thomas whispered to the crowner who nodded.
“I have heard that the meal at the inn included mushrooms,” the monk said. “Were there other differences in the food served?”
The man seemed bewildered. “It was a stew made from ox meat, to which I added some additional slices. My cousin also found a moment to whisper to me that it would be more palatable to Abbot Tristram if mushrooms were added, a food to which he was especially partial. Abbot Mordredus was also fond of them but liked them whole, not sliced as did Abbot Tristram. The other abbots either hated or were indifferent to mushrooms so I should not add them to the stew. He gave me a handful of sliced mushrooms for Abbot Tristram’s stew and whole ones for Abbot Mordredus. I added them as requested.”
“I have heard that Mordredus saw the offending item and spooned them all out,” Thomas said. “When you learned of this, what did you think or do?”
The man looked confused. “I was not told, Brother. I can only repeat my truthful account. I did what I was asked to do and nothing more.”
“After the serving of the meal, what happened?”
“I sat with the cook and listened to her complaints before taking my meal with the abbots’ servants. The cook was angry but no longer blamed me for what the holy men had demanded. She let me sleep in the kitchen until morning light when I rose and spoke with Abbot Mordredus. He was willing to take me on until they reached Norwich.” He fell silent, looking anxiously for some reaction or word from the king’s man.
Expecting him to continue, the crowner and the monk said nothing.
Sister Anne stood and walked away, ostensibly to examine the fine stitching on a youth’s robe that Mistress Signy was sewing.
Cuthbert remained by the door.
“The tansy,” Thomas finally said. “Tell me why you handled the tansy that gave you this rash.”
“It did?” He blinked. “My cousin told me that Abbot Ilbert was suffering from the wind after the meal and needed relief. He handed me a packet of tansy, told me how to prepare it and, when I was done, he took the remedy to the abbot.” Ned shrugged. “I know nothing of the herb. If I had, would I not have refused or at least taken precautions against this painful affliction?”
The monk frowned as he tried to decide how much truth the man spoke. Finally, Thomas looked at Ralf and said, “I think that is honest enough, Crowner. It is Didier’s servant we need to question.”
Ned threw up his hands. “Why would it not be true? What reason would I have to lie?”
Ralf and Thomas glanced at each other and back at the quivering man.
The crowner tilted his head to one side, his expression similar to a hungry bear contemplating a floundering salmon in a shallow stream. “Abbot Mordredus agreed to let you travel with them until Norwich. Why did you not accompany the party to the priory?”
“When the abbots decided to change their destination, my cousin came to me with a bag full of coin. He said my services were no longer needed, and this was my compensation. It was far more generous than I had imagined and much more than any other man would have earned for the small things I had done. Of course, I was content to depart, thinking I would immediately travel with another party on to Norwich—until I discovered the road was impassable.”
“You did not wonder at the impressive largesse for so little effort?” Ralf looked incredulous.
“These were abbots, my lord! Men of God. I assumed my cousin had told them of my plight, and God moved their hearts. He said he had been given a fine gift as well for finding a man to protect their virtue on the road. Since he had been amply rewarded, why would I question their charity to me, a poor man?”
Sister Anne looked over her shoulder. “Why go to Norwich?”
“My brother lives there. I thought he might give me shelter and food until I could find work.”
“Give me his name,” Ralf said.
The man also gave his brother’s occupation and described where he lived.
“Have you had any further word from your cousin in the priory?” Anne asked.
“Why should I? My services were ended.” Ned shrugged in an attempt to show confidence, but the stench of his sweat betrayed him.
“Have you gone to the nearby priory since you arrived at this inn?”
The man shook his head with evident bewilderment at the query.
Thomas first glanced at the stern Ralf and then forced all gentleness from his voice as he asked, “You have heard no news of the abbots while you waited here?”
“My hands were painful, which put me in bad temper. Why would I talk to people who annoyed me or who seemed to have cares I did not share? Lest you think me uncharitable, Brother, let me remind you that I could barely feed myself with the pain in my hands. Was it not a kindness to avoid adding to the burdens of others like the young couple or the man with the rotting leg?” He raised his one free hand. “And I, too, have the right to ask
questions! Although you helped me with the salve, why have you brought the king’s man to accuse me of some unnamed but clearly despicable crime?”
“You do not know of any reason why I should be asking you about your time with the abbots or have your hands examined by the priory sub-infirmarian?” For the first time, Ralf’s question was asked in a neutral tone, his eyes unusually sad for a man who thought he was confronting a killer.
“My lord, I do not. I can only assume you have confused me with another if you think I committed some crime.”
The crowner looked at his sergeant and signaled to him. “Cuthbert, take this man away and lock him up.”
“But I have done nothing!” Ned shouted as the sergeant pulled him to his feet, then squealed in pain when his wrists were tied.
“Nothing except kill at least two men,” Ralf said.
The man screamed and struggled, but he was held fast by Cuthbert.
Gesturing with his head to drag the howling man away, the crowner added, “But don’t beat him until you hear from me.” Ralf was not inclined to torture or to violence, but it never hurt to let a suspect believe otherwise.
After Cuthbert departed with his prisoner, Brother Thomas shut the door.
Sister Anne rejoined the two men. “I do not think him guilty,” she said.
“Not willingly,” the monk said, “but he did the killing, even if he did not mean to do so.”
“Now we have Abbot Didier’s servant to catch.” Ralf looked frustrated. “What possible cause had he to kill these men?”
“Or did he do so on the orders of his master?” Thomas was equally baffled.
“And yet it is Abbot Mordredus who is locked in a cell,” Sister Anne said. “Didier is free, and both Abbot Ancell and Abbot Odo remain alive. Guarded though they may be, Abbot Didier has proven to be a very clever man.”
The Proud Sinner Page 19
