“There’s talk beginning. Montfort is known for quick decisions, but hasn’t made one yet for this. People are starting to wonder, and once that starts it will spread like mold in damp bread.” He nodded at the door behind her. “Sir Walter has only just come but he’s even quicker to move than Montfort. If he believes the rumors about poison, he’ll press Montfort into doing something as fast as may be. If Montfort resists, there will be as fine a display of temper as this place has ever seen. He has that other matter to hand, so he will be doubly anxious not to linger over this one.”
“Other—You mean his uncle’s dying? But surely…”
“A cousin. Lord Fenner. He’s rich three times over, and Sir Walter is his heir. The title is Sir Walter’s for certain but he wants to be sure there’s no ill-written will sharing the wealth with others. He’s been at Lord Fenner’s sickbed this month past, and the talk has been that nothing short of Judgment Day could pull him away. But now his mother’s dead of a sudden, so here he is. Not that Lord Fenner will be making any wills in his absence; he’s taking his time about dying and won’t make a will until the bishop himself has assured him there is absolutely no way he can carry any of it away with him beyond the grave. Still, Sir Walter will be eager to get back. He’s a careful man and doesn’t like leaving things to chance.”
“Or being kept from what he wants.”
“No. Best warn your prioress there is going to be hell to pay until his mother’s death is settled.” He looked at Thomasine and paused. This time Frevisse noted that Thomasine did not flinch from his look. More gently than he had been speaking to Frevisse, he said, “We are kin of sorts, my lady. Did you know that?”
“No,” she said softly. Her gaze dropped, but then returned to his face. “How?”
“I’m one of Lady Ermentrude’s rather too many great-nephews. So by marriage at least we’re cousins.”
Thomasine hesitated, then yielded to a worldly impulse and asked, “What will you do now that Lady Ermentrude is dead? Will you go into Sir Walter’s household?”
Robert made a small shrug. “Most likely, since I have to go somewhere.”
“And after all, it will be familiar,” Frevisse said. “He’s very like his mother, I suspect.”
Robert’s dryness matched her own. “You suspect rightly, my lady.” He turned serious again. “I would suggest your lady abbess see to keeping everyone as close in as may be. The fewer people Sir Walter has to strike at when he knows the truth, the better. Pray pardon me, I have tasks to finish.”
He moved away as Sir John and Lady Isobel approached. They seemed not to notice him at all as Lady Isobel closed on Thomasine and folded her in her arms, exclaiming, “Poor girl! How tired you look! All this has been too much for you. Haven’t they left you alone today? That dreadful crowner, with his stupid questions, has he been frightening you? Can’t they see how weary you are?”
Thomasine began removing herself gently from her sister’s hold. “I’m well enough. It will pass,” she murmured.
“You look none so well yourself, Sir John,” Frevisse said. To her eye he looked gray and a little drawn.
“The toothache,” he said. He nursed his jaw a little with one hand. “It comes and goes. That wretched mountebank said he had cured it, and he was gone with our good silver pence before we discovered he hadn’t. All that smoke and seethe and froth, and now the pain’s come back again.” He glanced uneasily around to see that no one was near them, and said, low-voiced, “You know what’s being said about her death?”
Frevisse indicated with a small movement of her head that she thought it best they move away from the door behind her. Its thickness was sufficient to mute but not muffle Sir Walter’s voice.
Sir John flinched slightly, and moved away toward the hall’s outer door, the other three following.
“Is it true, what’s being said?” Lady Isobel asked. “That she was…was…poisoned?” Her cheeks’ soft cream reddened at the word.
“Yes. Beyond all doubting,” Frevisse said.
“But why? By whom?”
“That’s what Master Montfort is trying to determine. Will determine very shortly, I trust.”
“But how can he be so very certain it was…poison?”
“Because of all the signs of it on her. And because Martha Hayward died the same. There’s no doubting there was something in her food or wine that killed her, and Martha, too.”
“Not in the wine, surely,” Lady Isobel protested. “We brought it. There was nothing wrong with it. We brought two bottles, and the twin of the one I gave to Dame Claire I poured out for John myself. And you drank it, didn’t you, my heart, trying to ease your tooth?”
Sir John blinked, then said, “Yes, and there’s naught wrong with me.” But he looked alarmed and seemed to take a swift internal inventory. Not yet were the next words off his tongue, Frevisse thought, but he curbed them as Lady Isobel said, “So it must have been in her food. Who prepared it?”
“Thomasine,” Frevisse said. “The poison may have been added to one or the other after both the wine and food were in her room.”
They had reached the end of the hall now. For a moment there were no servants or anyone else near them and Frevisse asked, “How long were you with your aunt last night?”
“All the first watch,” Lady Isobel answered readily. “Then one of her women came in, Maryon, I believe, and I went to bed. It had been a wearying day.”
“Sir John, were you there at all, after Martha Hayward’s death?”
“Only to ask if more wine was needed. Dame Claire said there was some left and it would do.” His jaw was obviously aching and the words came stiffly.
“So the bottle was there then. Did you take it away, then or later?”
“No. But does it matter? Obviously it was emptied and taken away.”
“I don’t know what matters at present. But it is odd that it has disappeared and no one seems to know who took it or to where.”
“I remember seeing it,” Lady Isobel said. “It was there on the table, and I could see there was perhaps a third of the wine still left.” She gave her husband a tender look. “I thought to take it for John. His tooth is like to trouble him after such a day as we had had and I thought he might need its comfort.” Her hand reached sideways, feeling for his. Their fingers intertwined affectionately. “But instead I opened the second bottle.”
“And it worked. After Isobel came with it, I slept far better.” He seemed to imply that it was as much her tender concern as the wine that helped.
Frevisse smiled despite herself. They looked hardly older than Thomasine, standing there hand in hand like young lovers instead of a long-married couple. The bell for Compline began to ring. “My thanks,” Frevisse said. “I ask your pardon for troubling you. Now, pray, excuse us both. We’re needed elsewhere, by your leave.” At their mutual nods, she began to leave, drawing Thomasine with her, then on a thought turned back to say, “You should ask Dame Claire for something to ease your tooth. She surely has something better than your peddler’s frothing potion.”
And Lady Isobel replied, “That’s a kindly given thought. I’ll do so.”
The next day was overcast at sunrise, still dry to please the harvesters but heavy with a warmth that promised to be rain later. Frevisse, moving among the necessities of nearly four score people, with their food and comfort and tempers all needing seeing to, and Thomasine silent behind her, felt a building tension as palpable as the day’s heavy warmth. No open talk that the deaths had been murders had reached her yet, but an unease was there, and an awareness that Master Montfort was going on asking questions past when he should have stopped.
Near mid-morning she managed a quiet word with Robert, wondering how far rumor might have grown. He shook his head and said, “Sir Walter is in a temper. That bodes ill.” His gaze, as usual, went past her to Thomasine. He seemed about to say something else, then thought better of it, bowed, and went about his business.
A little after t
hat Frevisse overtook the woman Maryon. Seeing her go down the passage to the garderobe at the rear of the guest hall, she waited at its end, knowing there was no other way to leave. She was aware of Thomasine curious beside her but said nothing.
Maryon, returning, drew to a sharp stop as she saw Frevisse. Wariness froze her pretty face for an instant, before she smiled and came forward. “You startled me, standing there so still and waiting. You have need of me?”
“Only to ask you about Lady Ermentrude’s last day and night.”
Maryon made a graceful gesture. “As you wish.” Her smooth, dark hair was swept neatly back from her high, white forehead. Her large gray eyes and small, red, shapely mouth were solemn but not taut with any grieving Frevisse could see.
“How long were you with her that night?”
“All the second watch. Lady Isobel was with her the first watch and Maudelyn with her after me. Lady Thomasine was with her all night, I think.”
Thomasine nodded. Frevisse, already knowing that, paid no attention.
“Did you leave her at all? Or did anyone else come in?”
“No one came. That’s the black depths of the night then. Everyone was decently sleeping, I think. And I never left the room. I slept awhile. Much of the while, most likely. But I would have roused if she had had need of me.”
“But she didn’t.”
“She slept soundly, she did, poor lady.”
Frevisse turned the possibilities around in her mind, forgetting she was staring at Thomasine until the girl shifted uneasily. More than once Thomasine had seemed so deep in prayer that she was unaware of anything around her. Frevisse faced Maryon again. “You’ve been helpful. Thank you.”
Maryon nodded, began to leave, then paused. “You know Master Montfort is asking the same questions, my lady? He’s asking everyone, to be sure who was there, and when.”
“I know,” said Frevisse. “And it might be well if he doesn’t know that I’m doing it, too.”
Maryon regarded her with bright, considering eyes. “Yes, my lady,” she agreed.
Only as she started away did Frevisse think of something else. “What have you done with the monkey, Maryon? I don’t know when I last saw it.”
“It’s been gone since Lady Ermentrude died. Or maybe before. So much was happening, I wasn’t paying heed who had it instead of me.”
“Is it capable of carrying off a bottle less than half full of wine?”
“Indeed. I was instructed to pay special mind to any open bottle of wine when the monkey was present, as it would surely try to steal it. It’s a foul little beast. I’m hoping someone has taken their chance and wrung its nasty neck.”
The only relief of the morning was that Sir Walter sent a man to Frevisse offering to send help as well as food to the priory kitchen because his coming had so overburdened St. Frideswide’s. Frevisse gladly accepted on Dame Alys’s behalf, and made bold to ask if there was anyone among Sir Walter’s people who might be able to see to the guest-house chimney. The man said he thought there was, if it pleased her. Frevisse assured him it most certainly did. To have that chimney usable would ease at least some of the problems of the day.
By early afternoon the day’s warmth had thickened to discomfort. The coffins would have to be sealed shortly, and Frevisse knew that beyond the priory walls the villeins would be driving themselves as hard as might be, to have as much of the harvest in as they could before the inevitable rain. But her own concerns were bounded by the overcrowded guests, and she was setting two of Sir Walter’s men to the problem of the chimney when one of Master Montfort’s servants came to say the crowner wished to talk to the novice Thomasine.
Caught up in the bother of her duties, Frevisse nearly said for her to go; she would come later. But as she turned to say it, she saw Thomasine’s face, even more pale than usual, and thinner, tight around her bones, her eyes huge and dark. The girl had been no trouble to her all this while, following silently, doing whatever small things Frevisse asked of her, never asking why, suddenly, she was so needed. But clearly the tensions behind the day had reached her, and she was afraid beyond even her usual fears of going alone to Master Montfort’s questioning.
Frevisse said briskly to the man she had been talking to, “See to it as best you may then. I’ll be back shortly. Come, Thomasine.”
Master Montfort had, of course, yielded the guest-hall’s best chamber to Sir Walter. He and his clerk and their papers were now crowded into a smaller, darker chamber off a corner of the hall. It was private enough but not so suited to his own sense of dignity and worth, Frevisse suspected, and he was clearly beginning to use his temper to make up the deficiency. He glared at her as she entered.
“I only needed the girl, not you again.”
“It is not suitable for Thomasine to be alone with men,” Frevisse answered evenly.
“I’m hardly—” Master Montfort began. Then he thought better of it and said instead, “You can wait outside the door then.”
“That would still leave Thomasine alone. I’ll stay.”
Her words were more blunt than she had meant them to be. Certainly they were not what Master Montfort wanted to hear. The blood began to build in his face, going from red to darker red as his temper swelled. Frevisse watched, interested, and said, just before he reached the point of words, “We can send to Domina Edith if you choose, and ask her word on it.”
His face darkened further, but his lips closed down over what he had been going to say. He glared at her, his purpose diverted from Thomasine, and said sharply, “All right, but stand you in that corner out of our way and leave me to my work.”
Annoying him was not the wisest thing she could have done, Frevisse knew, but she did not suffer fools so calmly as a good Christian ought. A little regretful of that, she withdrew to the corner beside the clerk’s table. Without looking up, he curled his arm around his present parchment scrap, to shield whatever he was going to write.
“Now, my Lady Thomasine,” Master Montfort began sharply, “I’ve talked to more than a few folk since last I saw you. I’ve learned things and heard things. So what’s all this about demons at Lady Ermentrude’s bed? You never said anything about demons before. Why not?”
Bright color appeared on Thomasine’s cheeks, but she said steadily enough, “You told me only to answer your questions. You never asked me about demons so I couldn’t tell you.”
“I never asked—” Master Montfort stopped, apparently unsure if he should be offended. Then he decided he was and barked, “Well, I’m asking now. You say you saw demons. How many and what were they like?”
Thomasine’s mouth opened and closed. She shook her head. “I didn’t—” she began.
Master Montfort jumped at her words. “So now you deny you saw them? But you said then, before witnesses, you were seeing them. Now you admit you were lying. Why?”
“What she said was that Lady Ermentrude was seeing demons. Not that she saw them herself,” Frevisse said.
For a man with such an ample face, Master Montfort’s black eyes were very small and hard. He narrowed them at Frevisse and demanded, “There’s a difference, Dame? And mind that you’re here only so long as you keep out of my matters. You speak again and I’ll have you out of here no matter how it displeases your prioress.” He looked back at Thomasine with an avid gleam. “So did you see demons or not? You said there were demons come to take Lady Ermentrude for her wickedness and now you say there weren’t. Which is the truth, and why are you lying?”
Tears welled and gleamed in Thomasine’s eyes. She was trembling, but very firmly she said, “Lady Ermentrude was shrieking. She was pointing at something no one was seeing and she was afraid of it. I thought of demons and I said it.”
“But you didn’t see them? Tell me the truth this time, one way or the other, and be done with it!”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I never said I saw any. Not that time. I didn’t see any then. I only saw one and that was later. Not then.”
/> They all stared at her, even the clerk raising his head stiffly from his parchment to gape.
“You saw a demon, Thomasine?” Frevisse asked. “When?”
Thomasine’s lower lip trembled, but she said firmly, “When you left me with Lady Ermentrude, just before she died. She was rousing, wouldn’t lie quiet. I was going to the door to find you, and looked back at her. And, there was a black…thing on her bed. Creeping up over the edge of her bed and reaching for her.” Thomasine shivered uncontrollably the whole length of her body. “It was small and black and horrible, and reaching for her.” The tears were gone. Only remembered horror was on her face as she said desperately to Master Montfort, “I didn’t see them before. Not during the day. But I saw it then. I truly saw it! It was coming for her soul. I swear it!”
It was more than Master Montfort wanted to hear. He did not need the added problem of a demon in his investigation, but there was no apparent way out of it. His clerk was already recovered and scritch-scritching away at the parchment, putting down what Thomasine had said.
“So. So. You say you only saw one and not when there was anyone else around. Did you tell anyone you saw it? Did you say anything about it then, or save it up for now? To make me forget you’d lied before?”
Thomasine stared at him. Then her chin lifted. Her trembling was gone. “I have not lied. Not before and not now. I did not see demons and never said I saw them, only that they must be there. Why else was Lady Ermentrude so terrified? But I saw this one. I’ll say I saw this one, no matter what you say.”
“But you never told anyone? All this while and you never told anyone?”
“I tried to tell Dame Frevisse then, but Lady Ermentrude began her screaming. There wasn’t time afterwards. And then it didn’t seem to matter. There were so many other things.”
Master Montfort brooded at her, his little eyes half-hooded as he tried to turn this new thing to good account. But before he could, there was a rap at the door and a man, in Fenner livery with Sir Walter’s badge on his shoulder, came in unbidden.
The Novice's Tale Page 14
