Eleanor felt a chill course through her. Had winter come so soon? Trying not to show her fear, she clutched her hands, prayed for strength, and waited.
“It has come to Abbess Isabeau’s attention that you and Brother Thomas have an unchaste relationship.”
Stunned beyond belief, Eleanor leapt to her feet. “That is a lie! Who has dared to make such a vile accusation?” Her outraged expression of innocence was honest enough. Although she might long for a different union with the handsome and gentle monk than one of brother and sister in God’s service, she knew Brother Thomas had never once been accused of sin with any woman since he took vows. Most certainly, he had never shown the slightest carnal interest in her.
“The source of this news shall remain anonymous.”
“Ask anyone in this priory or in the village outside our walls. Brother Thomas has never once broken his vows by lying with a woman or even looking at one with lust. And, if he is innocent of that, then you may conclude that he and I are joined only by our love of God.”
“I have not yet begun my questioning of the religious in this priory.”
“Then start immediately!” Eleanor slammed her staff of office against the floor. All courtesy due this man because of his mission, relationship to the Abbess of Fontevraud, and his stature in the French king’s court had just ended.
Davoir blinked in the face of such rage and hesitated before he also rose to his feet. “I shall begin with your sub-prioress.”
It was Eleanor’s turn to pause. Of all the people he might have queried, he would choose the one who viewed her with much ill-will. But on quick reflection, she believed that even Sub-Prioress Ruth would not stoop so low as to accuse her of bedding Brother Thomas.
“She is an excellent choice,” Eleanor replied. “She will answer your questions in a forthright manner and will hide nothing to my discredit. She is an honorable servant of God.”
The silence in the chambers grew as heavy as the lead roof over the adjacent chapel.
A loud knocking startled them.
Shocked and outraged over the accusations leveled at her mistress and Brother Thomas, Gracia was red-faced with anger when she ran for the door. Who had dared disobey her mistress’ order to be left in peace while she spoke with this priest? If she had had a broom, Gracia would have gladly swept the rude intruder away.
But the lay sister on the other side of the door fell to her knees and reached out in supplication. “Please, my lady!”
Eleanor hurried to the door. “What is it?”
The messenger’s face was gray. “The clerk, Jean!”
Davoir stepped forward. “What has happened? Speak!”
“He is dead.” The woman buried her face in her hands and wept.
Chapter Ten
Eleanor and the lay sister waited outside the chamber where the corpse rested.
Within, Davoir knelt by the body of his beloved Jean and wailed with unrestrained grief.
“He was like a son to him, my lady,” a voice nearby said.
The prioress turned to see the other clerk she had seen with the priest when they arrived. This time, there was no hint of his previous boredom. His thin lips trembled.
“My name is Renaud,” he said, opting to remind her of his name as a courtesy lest the tragedy of this moment had chased it from her memory. “I am second in responsibility to my dead companion.” A tear wove its way down his cheek.
Eleanor caught herself wondering why only one eye wept, then chastised herself for such a petty thought. “I grieve for you as well. The death of a friend, even one who has surely found God’s favor, is a wounding loss,” she said. Although compassion required that she honor his grief, her loyalty to Sister Anne equally demanded she probe into this inexplicable death.
“Father Etienne told me that the remedy offered by our healers did nothing for poor Jean,” she said. “I did not know of this, nor, I suspect, did our sub-infirmarian. She would have sought an explanation for why her measures were failing before this death took place.”
Renaud rubbed the dampness from his cheek. “She must have known, my lady. I told the lay brother, who brought the cure, that Jean failed to thrive. He said the treatment would take time and that he had informed Sister Anne of the symptoms I mentioned.”
How odd, the prioress thought. The sub-infirmarian had mentioned none of this, and, if the lad only suffered from a surfeit of ale, he should have been cured by now. “What was this lay brother’s name?” If there was blame to cast here, this information was the place to start.
“Brother Imbert.”
“Imbert?” The prioress frowned. “Are you certain?”
“I am, my lady. He mentioned his name several times.” He flushed. “I cannot be mistaken.”
She looked at the lay sister who shook her head. “We have no monk or lay brother bearing that name.”
“Someone lies!” Davoir leaned against the door to the dead clerk’s room, his eyes swollen from weeping. He gestured to Renaud. “Bring this sub-infirmarian here. Now. She has much to explain.”
“Her duties…”
“Now!”
Eleanor flushed at the imperious tone. This was her priory, not his, but she swallowed the insult and chose silence.
Davoir gestured to his clerk and pointed at the main door.
Renaud ran from the room.
***
It did not take long for Sister Anne to arrive. Seeing Eleanor’s troubled expression, she knew the summons involved a grave matter.
“Who is Brother Imbert?” Davoir’s eyes flashed.
The light in his gaze reminded Eleanor of sermons describing hellfire.
Anne looked at Eleanor, then at the priest. “I am perplexed by the question, Father. There is no such man at Tyndal Priory.”
The priest’s mouth twisted with contempt. “Tell her what occurred,” he said to Renaud. “Let her explain herself.”
“But you sent Brother Imbert!” the youth protested. “He brought the remedy for Jean and gave instructions for its use. He insisted that the directions came from you. When I repeatedly told him that my fellow clerk did not improve, he said he had conveyed the news and that you insisted we must be patient. The remedy would take time. Today Jean suffered convulsions and…” He covered his face.
“But I sent no such person to you!” Anne looked around in horror. “A clerk came at your command, Father Etienne. Once only. I did give him the treatment and instructions.”
“Name this clerk,” Davoir snarled.
“I cannot. He gave me no name. I never saw him again. Might he have been the Imbert of whom you speak?”
“Describe the man.”
“I am unable to do so with any detail.” She clenched her fist and shut her eyes. “Medium height. No distinctive accent or tone of voice.” Anne threw her hands up in frustration. “The light was poor. His hood cast his face in shadow…”
Davoir spun around to face Eleanor, his face scarlet with rage. “I sent no one. She lies! Her remedy was useless, and she wants to hide her incompetence by suggesting a strange plot.” Tears wended their way down his cheeks again. “Perhaps you are about to claim that this was an imp sent by the Evil One to kill a youth who served God well?” He swiped the moisture from his cheeks and pointed at Anne. “Maybe this fiend is well-known to you, Sister.”
“Enough!” Eleanor shouted with outrage. “Why assume there is something evil in a nun who has done much good in God’s name? We have no Brother Imbert, but that does not mean my sub-infirmarian has formed a pact with the Devil or is lying.” She began to turn toward Renaud and suggest he might have grounds to lie, but his grief-stricken face stopped her and she fell silent. One unjust accusation was one too many.
But Davoir had read her initial intent. “Why look accusingly at my clerk? What cause has he to tell a false tale? Renaud and J
ean were like brothers!”
“I do not claim he did,” Eleanor replied. As if Satan had passed by, she wrinkled her nose. Something smelled foul, but she could not trace the source. All she knew for certain was that Sister Anne would not lie.
Shaking with anger and grief, the priest glowered at Sister Anne. “I accuse you of murder,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “When I refused to allow you to examine Jean, a godly youth who cringed at the very sight of women, you were resentful and let sin find a welcome in your heart. It was the Prince of Darkness who urged you to poison the devout lad out of wicked spite.” Suddenly, he faced Eleanor again. “Or there is another purpose here. You ordered your nun to kill my clerk so that I might flee in fear and not investigate the heinous crimes of which you may be guilty.”
Anne staggered in shock. Recovering, she turned red with fury and took one step toward the priest.
Eleanor put a hand on her friend’s arm to hold her back. “Beware the temptation to falsely accuse. God deems that a sin,” she said to Davoir, biting the end off each word. “If you insist on finding fault without proof, I shall plead my innocence directly to Rome.”
His horror was as palpable as his anger. “I never condemn without proof. Nor shall I denounce you until I have concluded my inquiry into the initial foulness of which you remain accused.”
Eleanor wanted to argue that he had lost all semblance of objectivity and ought not to continue this absurd investigation at all, but something stopped her. It would be futile, she decided, to attempt to debate with one who was blind to facts.
He raised a hand to command a silence that already existed. “Be grateful that I retain my desire, and that of my sister, for a just examination despite the painful death of my best clerk. I shall not order you to be locked away until I am done, Prioress Eleanor. If you are found innocent, your statements in support of this nun will be given due credence. If not, I shall denounce you both as Satan’s whores.” He pointed a shaking finger at Sister Anne. “She, however, must be locked away to prevent her from harming anyone else in my party. For that order, I have cause.”
Sister Anne gestured to her prioress not to protest on her behalf. “I accept that confinement, Father, but beg one thing,” Anne said, her tone unnaturally meek.
He hesitated, then sighed and agreed.
“Bring what is left of the remedy I am accused of sending so I may examine it. There is no evil in my request. You are here to watch me, and I shall immediately return it into your own hand.”
Sketching the sign of the cross to ward off evil, Davoir told Renaud to retrieve it.
When the clerk handed her the open jar, Anne asked what instructions had been given for its use.
He closed his eyes and repeated them slowly.
“Odd,” she said. “Those are not what I would have ordered for a drink of powdered ginger root and chamomile. She gazed into the jar, and her eyes grew round with disbelief. “This is autumn crocus,” she said in a whisper. “Tell me how he died?”
Renaud described Jean’s death agony in great detail.
“This preparation is for gout, not a queasy stomach. Even if Jean had suffered from gout, he would have died from the dosage you said I ordered.” Her face the color of chalk, she whispered, “As he has and in the manner described.”
“Lock her in a room with the guard I alone provide,” Davoir ordered. “If there is a man nearby who represents the king’s justice, he must be brought here to see the corpse.” He smiled at the infirmarian, his expression not unlike a cat savoring the sight of a doomed mouse. “But the Church will order the punishment you must suffer for this crime, and I promise that you shall long for death.”
“I submit to this, my lady,” Anne said to her prioress. “As Heaven is my hope, I shall be found innocent.”
Chapter Eleven
The tiny cell had no windows. No rushes softened the stone floor. This room had once been used for storage, then converted to a cell to hold a monk accused of murder. One person had died here, and the room thereafter remained empty of all but ghosts. A few claimed there was one in particular, who sometimes hurried through the outside corridor in a stinging mist, wailing for mercy from his place in Hell.
Sister Anne sat on the prickly mat that would be her bed and stared at the lone flickering candle she had been allowed to banish darkness and evil spirits. There was nothing else to give comfort, but if her fortitude had weakened, she did not show it. Hands folded, she stared at the rough walls without blinking.
With no warning, the door squeaked open.
Prioress Eleanor and her maid walked in.
Sister Anne rose to her knees, bowed her head, and only now began to weep.
From the hall outside, a hand reached in and slammed the door shut.
“Forgive me, my lady!”
Eleanor grasped her friend’s arm. “Rise! You need not beg forgiveness.”
“I have added to your burden!” Anne looked around as if some solution to this nightmare might be found in the trembling shadows. “I swear I sent the right remedy and proper instructions with a clerk who claimed to come from our abbess’ brother.”
“I know you are telling the truth. We must discover who had motivation to do this thing, why, and how.”
“And you have been accused of a vile misdeed by some unknown person? Who would dare do such a thing?”
“There is too much awry,” Eleanor said with a thin smile. “You have not asked the nature of my crime, but the word will soon be out. Brother Thomas and I are accused of lying together in lust. That was the purpose for which Father Etienne was sent on this visit.”
Anne turned white with horror.
“I do not believe that our abbess sent her brother because she longs to discredit me. She is an honorable woman, and her elevation to abbess brought us great joy. I am convinced they both want facts, not an easy resolution based in half-gathered information.”
“Hasn’t Abbess Isabeau always found Prior Andrew’s reports on Michaelmas or Easter satisfactory?” Anne could barely speak. “How could she give any credence…?”
“She must do so. Recently, she has had cause to fear Rome’s displeasure. I heard that some of her abbey monks have grown rebellious under a woman’s rule. If Rome learns that one of her prioresses has also broken her vows with a monk, many more bishops will demand intervention, claiming these disciplinary problems prove that a woman’s leadership is against God’s law. If her brother can satisfactorily resolve the difficulty here, while she quells the restless abbey monks, Rome will be less inclined to interfere with the practices of our Order.”
“Someone must want you found guilty and removed from your position,” Anne finally said. “Why else damn you for lust and me for killing a young clerk?”
“Perhaps the reasons for the charge of wantonness and the death of Jean are not the same.” Eleanor turned thoughtful. Although she had not yet told Ralf of this, she was reminded of the soldier’s death on the way to the priory. The guard captain had suggested it was the result of some grievous quarrel between two men, a conclusion Eleanor would not have questioned if the death of Davoir’s clerk had not occurred so soon after. Was there another motive that linked the guard’s death with Jean’s? “To condemn me for unchaste behavior is one thing. That suggests malice. Killing a clerk to add to that accusation is excessive.”
“Unless the malice has turned the soul gangrenous, and then murder would not be such an extreme act.” Anne looked over at Gracia. The girl’s face was wan in the muddy candlelight, and the sub-infirmarian’s expression spoke of her grief that this child should hear this and suffer another threat to her security.
Eleanor shivered. She could imagine there were some who would enjoy embarrassing her by claiming she had broken her vows. There was no one she knew who hated her so much that he would kill to force her removal from the leadership of Tyndal. She sh
ook her head to clear it.
Jean’s death, the soldier’s murder, the accusations against her sub-infirmarian, and the initial claims of her own transgressions could be related. Or not. There were too many coincidences to discount a connection. Yet she had few facts, many paths she might follow, and little time to determine what properly fit together for the most logical conclusion.
If only she could learn who had initiated the original claim of immoral behavior, she might be able to decide if everything had the same foul origin. Regarding the guard’s death on the journey here, the event might have been, as Davoir reported, the result of a quarrel between two men. She should leave that matter to Ralf, she thought, but she knew she could not forget about it.
“Dare you investigate this matter at all, my lady?” Anne’s voice was soft with concern. “Might you not be accused of tainting evidence or obscuring facts for your own benefit?”
“Nor may Brother Thomas on the same grounds,” the prioress replied. “I can only pray that Father Etienne does not conclude he must take over the investigation into his clerk’s death since neither Brother Thomas nor I can be trusted to do so.”
“Ralf must examine the body.”
“But the priory is under the jurisdiction of the Church. All he can do is determine cause of death and help in the investigation. Were he to discover the killer, he could not send him for punishment unless the guilty one is subject to the king’s law. Otherwise, the Church decides the penalty.”
“I may have been the source of the accusation of murder against you, my lady, but Brother Thomas remains free of that.”
Eleanor shrugged. “He is not tainted with the claim of murder, but he remains suspect in breaking his vows and doing so with me. He will be watched. We cannot be seen together.”
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