Justice for the Damned mm-4

by Priscilla Royal

Or will after I tell her what I have heard, the prioress said to herself, then left to collect her obedient escorts from the kitchen.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eleanor walked slowly back to the priory. At this sluggish pace, she would miss the Office, but surely God would understand and accept her humble, silent repetition of prayers. Had she not been kept in the village by the need to restore peace to His house?

  The meeting with Jhone and Alys had brought many interesting things to light about both ghost and murder, troublesome questions that hung like broken threads from a tapestry. They must fit somewhere, but she could not see how they should be placed to make the pattern clear. Perhaps Brother Thomas had some enlightening news and was waiting for her to return.

  As the image of the monk occupied her mind, she was surprised that her thoughts of him were unaccompanied this time by the usual pang of guilt. The cooling of her flesh, temporary though that might be, had most certainly been a welcome respite from her relentless and gnawing hunger to bed the man. By pushing back the fiend who tormented her so, God had brought a gentle shower of hope to her scorched soul.

  Wasn't there a treatise that dealt with love between monastics and spiritual friendship? Her aunt had mentioned it years ago when Eleanor was ready to take final vows, but she had never read it. Now she remembered: it was written by Aelred of Rievaulx. Might his words help her cope when the Prince of Darkness sent his imps once again to set fire to her loins? Although the great Cistercian abbot would not have discussed the possibility of such a thing between men and women, Eleanor wondered if his principles could apply in an Order where the two sexes must interact in holy purpose.

  Her step lightened. When she finally had time alone with her aunt to seek advice on her sinful longings, Eleanor would ask her opinion on whether the abbot's treatise had insights to help both a prioress and a frail woman.

  Meanwhile, what sin could there be in appreciating a man who had proven his worth as an instrument of God's justice? Without question she liked his courtly wit, but she also respected his gentleness as he consoled those in Tyndal's hospital, in particular the suffering children. She doubted he had come to the priory with a strong vocation, but she found him diligent in his duties and wise as a confessor to her nuns.

  All told, he had proven himself to be a good man, and she had grieved when his black humors recaptured his spirit on his father's death. Even Sister Anne had failed to comfort him as he fell into a silence darkened with sorrow. She prayed he broke it with his confessor.

  At least he had cheered when her aunt had given him the task of discovering what lay behind this ghost, she thought, then frowned. Was it the chance to serve God that refreshed his soul, or had he simply enjoyed escaping from walls he never wanted to surround him in the first place? The thought troubled her. How strongly did the world pull at her monk?

  Eleanor glanced back at her two attendants. Although they had remained meekly quiet during this trip into the village, she noted the eagerness with which they now looked around, as if storing rare glimpses of the secular world to savor once they were back within priory confines. Were either truly suited to the contemplative life, she wondered, or were all mortals so joined to the dust from which they came that no one could truly leave the world? Maybe Brother Thomas was no different from any other.

  Neither, perhaps, was she. She stopped to take delight in the sight of her beloved Avon. On the path along the river, she noticed a plump young merchant in close conversation with one of his men. The laborer gestured toward the priory walls. The merchant laughed, a sound that seemed both hearty and full of joy to Eleanor's ears. As she smiled at their merriment, she decided that Man might be weak to find pleasure in the earth, but surely God found little sin in this appreciation of His wondrous creation.

  She nodded in sympathy at her two attendants, now pink-faced with embarrassment from their not-so-secret thoughts, and resumed her walk to the priory gate. There were less innocent enjoyments here than the sight of a river, however. Had it been too cruel to send Brother Thomas to the inn, a place full of worldly temptations? She had good reason to be confident that he was true to his vows, but she knew from her own experience how quickly flesh joined Satan's games. If she, a woman who had no doubt about her vocation, had suffered lust, how much harder would it be for one who had less of a calling? She closed her eyes and prayed the monk had sinned little beyond taking more drink than might be wise.

  The issue of religious vows turned Eleanor's mind back to the contentious debate within the woolmonger's family. Alys had no true calling to become a nun in any Order. That was quite clear. She was most suited to becoming a wife, and her mother had good reason for choosing a successful merchant as the girl's husband.

  Although Eleanor had never met the glover, she had not found Master Herbert either ill-favored or insensitive. The match between the pair might not start out with mutual love, but that could grow if each treated the other with thoughtful respect. The marriage between her own father and mother had been arranged as a union of property, not hearts, yet Baron Adam still grieved over his wife's death some sixteen years later. Despite her sympathy for Alys, Eleanor knew it would be best if she found some way of getting the girl to make peace with her parents' choice of spouse.

  That aside, what had she learned about this ghost? According to Jhone, there was a connection between Wulfstan's death and the vintner's dead wife, but Eleanor could see no logic in the supposition. Even assuming the soul of Eda was seeking vengeance for her place in the Devil's kingdom, why kill the father and not the son who led her there? And who, besides the vintner himself, would have reason to seek revenge?

  She shook her head. That last thought was ridiculous. Why would Master Herbert kill the adulterer's father but pursue marriage with the cousin of the seducer? And why would any killer pointedly bring attention to a tie between his adulterous wife's death and Wulfstan's murder, a link that could well point back at him?

  Stopping at the gate, Eleanor closed her eyes and forced her tired mind to see reason in any of this. Nay, the laborer must have been killed by someone who had a quarrel with him, not with Sayer.

  "My lady!" The porter's tremulous voice broke through her jumbled thoughts. Although bowing out of respect for her rank, his expression resembled that of a loving father.

  She greeted him with affection.

  "Brother Thomas has begged an audience when you return."

  "Please send him to Prioress Ida's lodging," she replied.

  As she started to walk in that direction herself, she stopped, her mouth open in wondrous amazement. Had she not returned from the house of Mistress Jhone filled with deep weariness? Yet now her body had lost that exhaustion. God was most kind!

  Brother Thomas accepted a mazer of wine and watered it well. "I fear I bring little news."

  "May I ask if you slept well, Brother?" Anne teased.

  The monk's face flushed. "I did oversleep all the Offices until now. For that, I will do penance.

  "And drank more than you are accustomed to do?" The prioress' voice suggested no reproach.

  He nodded. "Far more than any man ought, my lady. Brother Porter must have long been in his bed when I returned. I slept in the grass, quite near the priory walls. Today, I swear Satan has taken over Hell's smithy and is pounding an anvil in my head."

  "That is penance enough," Eleanor replied. "You were toiling at God's work, and if that is the worst of your sinning…" His admission of drunkenness was frank enough. Surely he had committed no greater error than this one touch on Satan's hand. She exhaled with relief and quickly nodded for him to continue.

  "There are no recent strangers in Amesbury, except ourselves, according to a young merchant I met at the inn. He knew of no one who might have a grudge against this priory." He hesitated.

  The pause was not lost on the prioress. "No one?"

  "The merchant said he was the only one who might, then swore he was jesting."

  "Did he explain what he meant?"


  "He is unmarried and grieved that the priory was able to win so many pretty girls to God's service when he could not gain the hand of any. Perhaps he feared he would be forced to marry some elderly widow."

  "You spoke only to this merchant?" Anne offered more wine to Thomas.

  He refused with an amiable wince. "He had much to say, including that many in the village believe demons have lurked for years near the mammoth stones that lie not far from here." He hesitated, as if waiting for his prioress to ask a question.

  Imps so long in residence did not interest her. She gestured for him to go on.

  "Some lawless men as well, he said, but they rarely trouble local folk and may be from the village itself. As for the priory, he told me it brought so much custom to the town that anyone would be hard-pressed to find any enemy. Standing as high as it does in the king's favor brings honor to Amesbury as well as coin."

  "What had he to say about the ghost?" Eleanor asked.

  Thomas lowered his eyes to a silent study of his mazer. "The merchant discounted the rumor that our ghost was Queen Elfrida since the priory has disciplined the wayward monks."

  Eleanor saw his face turn red. Surely, she thought, he was not embarrassed by their particular sins. After all, he could not have come as a virgin to the tonsure. "Did he mention the other possible wandering spirit?"

  "He denied that tale as well. According to him, Mistress Eda, the vintner's wife, was too charitable a soul on earth to be so cruel in death, even if she was in Hell for her sins. Sweet Eda, he called her."

  "Was he kin to this woman?"

  "I fear I did not think of that question, my lady."

  "His words indicate some devotion. Perhaps he was in love with her before she married?"

  "I do not know the lady's age, but the merchant is younger than I while the vintner is much older."

  Eleanor turned pensive. "Disparate age does not always repel passion, even if the woman is the elder."

  Thomas blinked.

  "It is a question worth answering, I think. From what you have reported, your merchant seems doubtful that either alleged ghost truly drifts in the river fog. Did he suggest any source or basis for these rumors?"

  "Nay."

  "Did he mention the murder? In particular, was there any hint of rancor between Wulfstan and a family here? Perhaps Mistress Eda's?"

  "He said that Wulfstan had no enemies and had had no part in the verdict condemning the woman's body to burial in unholy earth." A look of confusion spread over his face. "Forgive me, my lady, but I thought you did not want me to ask anything about the man's death."

  "Nor did I, when I sent you out to seek gossip about phantoms, but now I have reason to be curious about any tales that are abroad. Did you not tell me that Mistress Jhone is related by marriage to Wulfstan?"

  Thomas nodded.

  "I had a most noteworthy conversation today with the woolmonger's widow and learned that the vintner's wife was her close friend. Although she seemed quite distressed by the idea, Mistress Jhone claims Mistress Eda was seduced by Wulfstan's son. As a consequence, she believes that the woman's damned soul must have murdered the father in revenge for her adultery with the son. Not a logical conclusion, I freely admit, but an interesting accusation."

  "The son who works at the priory?" Anne asked as she passed a well-watered mazer of wine to the prioress.

  "Sayer," she replied. "Did you see him last night, Brother?"

  Thomas studied the rushes under his feet for a long moment. "Aye, but I could not discuss anything with him. When he joined me, he was drunk and soon passed out."

  "I wonder if he is working today, Brother. You would know best about this, but do you think the effects of last night's bright joys might make him eager to speak to a tonsured man on this day after?"

  Anne laughed. "Surely he would welcome any excuse to avoid hammering."

  "I doubt he will admit adultery with the vintner's wife, or perhaps he might, but this story from Mistress Jhone is the only hint so far that there was some possible quarrel connected with Wulfstan," Eleanor said. "Sayer might say something that casts light on this matter."

  "The man was not on the library roof when I passed by earlier." Thomas took some time replacing his untouched wine cup back on the table. "Shall I return to seek him there?"

  "I think it is safe enough. It is daytime, and there should be monks enough around. Do not press too hard for information, however, but, if you learn anything of note, we can pass it on to the sheriff when he sees fit to return from his hunt." Eleanor shifted in her chair. "One other question. Your merchant. What was his name?"

  "Master Bernard. He is a glover."

  Eleanors eyes widened. "Indeed! You thought him an honest man?

  "No less than most in trade."

  Eleanor glanced over at Anne to see her reaction to this remark. Before the nun had taken vows, she and her husband had owned an apothecary. Her expression was benign.

  "He was very generous in sharing his wine and giving me coin for prayer…" Thomas stopped and put his hand to his mouth. "Forgive me, my lady, but I failed to mention one thing I did notice about the merchant. When he jested about his grudge against the priory, I sensed no true rancor but did hear some grief in his words. Perhaps I was mistaken…"

  "You are quite right in your observation, Brother. Young Alys, although she is to be Master Herbert's wife, wants to marry this glover and has said she will take vows rather than go against her heart. According to her, Master Bernard loves her well in return, but Mistress Jhone claims he is both improvident and greedy."

  Thomas snorted. "Both men may be beset with the sin of greed, my lady, but, of the two, I did not like what I saw in Master Herbert. He may be well-favored, but he struck me as a cunning man. The glover?" The monk shrugged. "He is a dreamer, for cert, but I might pick Master Glover to be the more trustworthy."

  "I have not met Master Bernard but did meet Master Herbert on my way to the woolmonger's house. My own impression of the vintner is quite different from yours, but I did not speak with him long."

  "My encounter was brief as well," Thomas conceded. "There was something else that I may not have mentioned before. When I asked Mistress Jhone and the vintner if Wulfstan had enemies, the widow suggested there might be something relevant that had happened of late. Master Herbert quickly hushed her and refused to let me speak further with her."

  "A kindness, I think, to a woman who was among those who discovered Wulfstan's headless corpse and is a widow recently bereaved of her husband."

  "Shall I pursue the reason with her now, my lady?"

  "I will do that for I have cause to return to her house. I suspect that she may have meant the seduction of Mistress Eda by Sayer. That would explain why the vintner did not want her to speak of it. Surely he would not wish the story repeated in public."

  Thomas did not look pleased.

  "You do not like the wine merchant, Brother. Surely the reason is founded in more than his trade?"

  "I cannot say for sure, my lady. There are some that do good amongst their fellows." He smiled at Anne. "Others reek of avarice. There is a sour smell about this vintner."

  "I would never disregard your opinion and will think more on it. Nor have I met the glover so cannot judge whether Mistress Jhone is correct in her judgement of him. Should I meet Master Herbert again, I will keep your words in mind."

  "I see one more troubling aspect to this murder," Anne said. "The phantom remains accused of the act, and all witnesses have claimed the apparition is one of two women: Queen Elfrida or Mistress Eda. Few women have the strength to do what was done to that corpse. Yet how could a man be mistaken as a woman's ghost?"

  "An excellent question and one to which I have no answer," Eleanor replied. "Even though I dismiss the idea of ghosts, something has been troubling the priory. Might a human murderer hide his deed behind the form of a damned soul, casting all suspicion on a creature which cannot be brought to mortal judgement, and thus escape
justice?"

  "Master Herbert," Thomas said, almost under his breath.

  "I doubt it. Would you not agree that he would be more likely to kill Sayer, not the father, if the son had seduced his wife? And why would he eagerly arrange a marriage with the cousin? When he spoke of Alys and her mother, he expressed great devotion. That is not the way of a man who has been wronged by a family."

  "I agree, my lady." Thomas' voice suggested regret.

  "We need so much more information. I shall return to talk with Mistress Jhone and her daughter. The house is near enough not to tax my strength. In the meantime, I think you should seek out our lusty roofer."

  Thomas flushed. "If he is not to be found, do you have another task?"

  "A visit to Wulfstan's widow, Mistress Drifa. As a member of this Order, if not of this community, Sister Beatrice would want you to bring her comfort. Perhaps this widow will be the one to help untangle the dark knot."

  "And what of Master Bernard?" Anne asked.

  "Brother Thomas might have reason to meet with him again, although another visit to the inn is not wise, especially at night." Eleanor smiled at the monk with sympathy. "My aunt can find reason to send you out on market day."

  "I will do as you ask most willingly," Thomas said.

  "And I pray we learn the truth soon." Eleanor shivered as if some unseen thing had just stroked an icy finger on the back of her neck. "I fear that Satan is not yet done here."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Thomas chose to visit Wulfstan's widow first. He was purposely delaying any further contact with the son but, with God's grace, hoped he might learn enough without having to talk to Sayer at all. At the priory gate, he asked the porter for directions to Drifa's dwelling, explaining that he had been sent by Sister Beatrice to offer comfort.

  The place was easy enough to find. Thomas knew what to expect of a home where a husband had been a laborer in the priory fields and one son a bit more skilled. As a consequence, he was surprised to see a house larger than he imagined with a flock of many healthy chickens, watched over by a large and bright-eyed cock with his leg tethered to a stake, in the front of a round poultry hut.