“The precedent of cooperation has been set, Ralf. If Davoir questions it, any at this priory can confirm the practice and the respect you have always shown God’s law. In order to determine if this death is murder…”
“Davoir has already decided Sister Anne killed his clerk.” Fighting a resurgence of despair, Ralf waved a diminished handful of food at the ceiling. “May God curse him,” he muttered.
“And no matter how firmly Father Etienne holds that conclusion, he is in error. If he cannot be wooed by logic, I shall exercise my right to override any attempt by him to supersede my commands.” Her smile was as cold as a north wind on the feast of All Saints.
“What if he orders his clerks to lock you into a cell?” Ralf’s face turned gray.
“He has his clerks. I have loyal lay brothers under the command of Brother Beorn, all of whom wield pitchforks with the same skill clerks use quills.”
There was absolute stillness in the room as they all stared at her.
Thomas broke it with a laugh. “Brother Beorn might be army enough by himself, my lady. Even our crowner gives way to our lay brother on the path when they meet each other.” Glancing around, he was relieved to see that the mood had lightened. Even Ralf was grinning.
“At times I pity God that the lay brother serves Him,” Ralf said, then took more cheese when Gracia quickly offered it to him.
“If God has compassion for our guest, we may not need to use the lay brother, our greatest weapon. I can debate for hours with Father Etienne. By the time the priest and I have stopped quarrelling, Crowner, you will have done everything needed to prove our sub-infirmarian innocent or at least raise a reasonable doubt in Father Etienne’s mind.” Eleanor sat back in her chair and fingered her staff of office. The time for jests was over.
Ralf rose and began to pace. “Whom may I approach?”
“Begin with Sister Anne while you may,” she replied. “I will send someone with you for proper attendance. Ask for her version of the events, seek any clarification you need, and present your observations of the corpse. You have seen, touched, and smelled the body. From your questions and comments, our sub-infirmarian may have enough information to give you her firm opinion on the cause of Jean’s death.” She thought for a moment. “If God is kind, she may be able to help with timing of the death. Perhaps the beginning of the symptoms will provide a new clue, although I fear this elusive Brother Imbert remains the key to the locked chest where the solution lies.”
“But will Davoir allow this?”
“We shall invite his participation. Ask him for one of his best clerks to record and witness the interrogation. For all I care in this matter, you can leave the door to the cell open so everyone can hear what is said. There is no purpose in hiding anything if you phrase your questions cleverly.” Her smile was mischievous. “And I know just how clever you can be, Crowner. After all, you stole my maid from me.”
He flushed.
“Sister Anne must be made aware of this plan,” Thomas said. “How can that be done?”
The prioress gestured to her maid. “Gracia shall take our nun her meal from the kitchen and give her a brief message to alert her.”
“Won’t Davoir be suspicious if your maid appears so often, my lady?” Ralf asked.
Eleanor stood and gestured to the girl to come closer. Putting an arm around her, the prioress said to the crowner, “Look upon her. Do you see a child or a woman?”
“When you first came to Tyndal, Gytha was only a little older but had a woman’s form,” Ralf said after a moment. “Gracia does not.”
“Exactly. If Father Etienne notices her at all, he will dismiss her competence due to her perceived youth. Perhaps he thinks I selected a babe to serve me out of simple charity and will soon rue my choice. He most certainly does not see her as a messenger, nor one who observes and reasons far better than most owning many more years on this earth. Brother Thomas and I learned just how clever Gracia was in Walsingham. I am grateful she chose to come back with us and bring those skills.”
Gracia flushed with pleasure.
Thomas winked at her. “More fools they. Look at how effectively she questioned Sister Oliva in the hospital apothecary hut.”
“I did nothing except obey my lady,” Gracia said softly.
Eleanor gave her a hug. “And I take no credit for the gifts God has bestowed on you, my child.”
“Then let us plan what I must ask,” Ralf said eagerly.
Eleanor began to sit, then changed her mind and walked to the table to pour herself a cup of ale. “Forgive me, Ralf, but there is information I learned from Father Etienne that I should have sent to you long before now. I fear the clerk’s death and the arrest of Sister Anne chased the news from my memory.”
The chamber door creaked open, and the prioress’ cat entered. Contemplating all in the assembled group, he chose to favor Gracia with his attentions and rubbed against her legs.
She knelt to pet him.
“On the journey here,” Eleanor said, “one of the soldiers assigned to protecting our guests was killed. The captain of the guard insisted that he was aware of the circumstances and would render the appropriate justice. No crowner or sheriff was called. Perhaps the captain was correct, but I believe you should know about this.”
Ralf raised an eyebrow.
“Father Etienne did not say if any soldier was punished or executed for the crime. He was more concerned about the health of his clerk.” She sipped her ale. “Nor have I concluded there is any link between that death and Jean’s. Nonetheless, I did not want you to remain in ignorance, lest there be some connection or error in failing to alert you to the crime.”
Indeed I should know, Ralf thought, recalling the badly scarred man who sat with him at Signy’s inn and exhibited a rare curiosity about the village and the priory. Conan had made him uneasy. Now he had more cause to investigate this guard captain further.
Chapter Seventeen
Davoir looked at Conan with contempt. “Why should I fear for the safety of my clerks or myself when the one who killed Jean is imprisoned?”
“She has not yet been found guilty, Father.” The pale light from the window only deepened the furrows and ridges of the captain’s scars.
“She shall be! If I can keep Prioress Eleanor and Brother Thomas away from the investigation into her guilt, the verdict against the nun will be fair and untainted. If necessary, I will insist the sub-infirmarian be taken from their undue influence to Fontevraud Abbey where my sister can render an objective judgement.”
A peculiar light flickered in Conan’s eyes. “You believe there is that much wickedness in this place consecrated to God? If you are so uneasy about the role of Satan in the priory, you should welcome my suggestion that I examine the security of these quarters.”
Davoir laughed. “You think your sword is strong enough to keep the Devil at bay? Who taught you about faith, soldier? It was no priest.”
Conan’s face became spotted as if he had a pox, but he said nothing.
“Father, may I express some thoughts in this matter?”
Sighing, the priest turned to his pale-faced clerk but barely hid his annoyance. “You have my permission, Renaud, but keep your speech brief.”
“The captain and his men have protected us from the moment we set foot in England. On the way here, no bandits attacked us. No harm came to us.” He waved his hand. “Other than that matter about the dead guard, but he was not of our…”
“Our safety was their purpose, my son.” The priest’s voice was rough with impatience. “Your meaning, if you please.”
“If Sister Anne has wicked friends in this priory, and the leadership is directed by the Prince of Darkness, might there not be other liegemen of the Evil One who wish you ill? If the poisoning of Jean was a failed attempt to frighten you away before uncovering the inequities here, another imp migh
t try a direct attack since your resolve has not weakened.”
Davoir looked surprised. “You speak well, Renaud.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“I may have always found Jean superior to you in learning, perception, and quickness of analysis, but this concern for my well-being and your reasons for same are well-expressed and well-considered.”
Renaud’s face flushed with joy.
Conan stood as still as a statue in a church.
Davoir flicked a hand at the man. “Very well, Captain, tell me what you propose.”
“Perhaps your clerk will take me around the guest quarters so I might examine the various entrances to your chambers. Like a castle under siege, Father, those entrances should be guarded by a patrol for the duration of your stay here.”
“Guards in a house shielded by God? I will not permit armed men in this priory.”
“Prayer is useful, Father, but God has often shown that He approves of soldiers, depending on their intent,” Conan replied. “He did travel with those who took arms against the Infidel to regain Jerusalem.”
Shaking a finger at the captain, Davoir growled. “Do not preach to me or claim to know more than a priest about the reading of God’s holy will.”
For a moment, Conan looked like he might laugh. He bowed his head quickly.
“If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, Father?” Renaud was wringing his hands.
Raising both eyebrows as if awed by a minor miracle, Davoir gave permission.
“We need not have armed men. If I show the captain around our quarters here, he can advise on the places where someone with wicked motives might enter. Day should not be as difficult a time to keep watch. Perhaps one clerk might walk around the buildings, but I could assign several clerks to do so at night.” He puffed out his thin chest. “I would take over for the weariest clerks. Our prayers will be our swords.”
A brisk knock at the door interrupted his argument. Renaud rushed to open it.
Gracia stood outside with hands meekly folded and head bowed.
“What do you want?” Davoir barked at her.
She stepped back, visibly trembling.
“Speak! I do not have all day.”
“Crowner Ralf asks permission to question Sister Anne, Father. He wants one of your clerks with him to witness the procedure. If you approve, he asks that this clerk record the meeting so there can be no doubt of fairness or propriety.” She pronounced each word like a child repeating a memorized passage.
Davoir opened his mouth, then rethought what he was about to say. “His proposal is fair. I shall allow it. Tell him to meet me here before the next Office.” He glanced at Renaud. “Surely you and the captain will have finished by then.”
Renaud flushed and looked at Conan.
The captain nodded.
Gracia fidgeted in the doorway.
Davoir glared at her. “Go! Tell the crowner of my decision.”
As directed, Gracia fled.
“Annoying girl,” Davoir muttered. “Having such a witless child as a maid does not reflect well on Prioress Eleanor’s judgement. She ought to have chosen a lay sister or even a nun of more mature years.” He shook his head. “Shut the door and get on with your plan,” he said to Renaud. “You will also record the meeting between the king’s man and this vicious nun.”
***
As Conan and Renaud walked around the guest quarters, Renaud said to the captain in a low voice, “I agree with your fears and plan, Captain, even if Father Etienne does not. He may be close to God’s ear, as well as that of our king’s brother, but he often forgets that evil men do not respect the armor of prayer and do violence against the virtuous. I fear for his safety.”
Conan nodded, then pointed out a window which was just big enough to allow a small person to climb through. “Your eyes are red with weeping,” the captain said as they continued on. “You and the dead clerk must have been friends.”
“We were as boys, Captain, but Jean rose above me in so many things. Father Etienne saw his quick intellect and deep understanding of godly matters. He promised him a fine benefice or the position of secretary to a man of high ecclesiastical rank. Jean served him with great love and devotion. Rarely was he absent from Father Etienne’s side.”
Conan turned and studied the clerk for a moment. “And now you stand in that place of honor.”
Renaud flushed. “Do you think so? I am not sure. Father Etienne often criticized my writing and my ability to both learn and reason. My Latin is faulty as well.”
“I am only a rough soldier, clerk, but I think you misjudge his respect for you. Did you not hear his praise for you today?”
Renaud modestly lowered his gaze and walked on.
The captain followed, his expression a mix of pity and amusement.
As they circled the quarters, Renaud began to indicate other low windows and one door.
Conan said little more until they reached the main entrance to the priest’s quarters.
“I see the crowner coming,” Renaud said with a nervous quiver in his voice. “I must leave you and accompany him to the sub-infirmarian’s cell.”
“I will not keep you, clerk. Since I cannot send my men to protect your priest, you and some of the other clerks should patrol during the night. You know the dangerous entrance areas. If you see anything untoward, call out. Make a great noise. Awaken those who sleep. That should be enough to frighten off any man who wishes your master ill. If it does not, the shouting will bring help. Not all the lay brothers in this place are corrupt. And send word to me at the inn. Your master may not want armed men on holy ground, but we will come quickly if nothing else deters the wicked.”
Pleased, Renaud thanked the captain for the confidence he had shown in him.
“One thing more, lad,” the captain said, “I would take the darkest part of the night patrol yourself and alone. Perhaps between the last Office and the rising sun. Let the other clerks sleep. You know the perils best and what signs to look for. I think that deed will please your priest.” He winked.
Renaud glowed with hope and promised Conan he would do as suggested. “It is my joy to serve my master and take the greater responsibility on myself,” he said.
“Go meet the crowner,” Conan replied.
Renaud smiled and left.
Slipping around the quarters to another path, Conan found the way to the mill and carefully avoided the king’s man. He had accomplished what he desired and had no wish for any conversation with Crowner Ralf.
Chapter Eighteen
Seeing those gathered in her chambers, Eleanor struggled with envy, the child of her thwarted longing for action. Unable to participate in the investigation into the clerk’s death, she sat in these rooms, surrounded by accounting rolls, left only with the right to pray for justice. This galled her. As a consequence, she feared she spent too much time beseeching God for patience when she should be begging mercy for a long list of tormented souls in Purgatory.
As she glanced at Gracia, Ralf, and Thomas, she smiled with forced calm. I must stop whining and use what is left to me, she decided. If I am banned from the inquiry, I most certainly can direct others to do what I dare not. Do I not have the wits to circumvent these restrictions? She sat just a little straighter with renewed purpose, eager to hear what they had discovered.
“Ale for all,” Eleanor said. “Then let us discuss what we know and must do next.”
Gracia hurriedly served each, then ran to her place by the chamber door.
Ralf grinned at the girl. “Thanks to your maid’s forewarning,” the crowner said, “Sister Anne was very precise in her replies. Most of what she said was a repetition of her prior testimony as you described it, but she very carefully went over what Prior Andrew had observed and gave well-considered conclusions.” He drank from his mazer with obvious enjoyment.<
br />
Eleanor briefly wondered if the priory’s ale brewer ever gave the crowner and his wife the occasional gift of the beverage. Ale was considered calming for a pregnant woman, although she thought Ralf might need it more than Gytha when the time came for the birthing.
“I had already talked with the prior about what he had seen,” Ralf said. “The details were the same as those reported by Sister Anne. Then I confirmed all with Brother Thomas.”
The monk concurred.
“The clerk, Jean, had no fever, and his symptoms were no different from anyone else who has had too much to drink the night before.” The crowner laughed. “I know the signs well myself.” He blushed and looked away. “Or did before my marriage.”
“Did our sub-infirmarian know that the lad had not improved with the treatment she sent with this unidentified clerk?”
“No, but she was uneasy when she heard nothing. She knew she was not welcome at the guest quarters but did send a lay brother to offer advice or answer questions. He was refused admittance, told that all the clerks were busy with the investigation of the priory, and promised his message would be relayed.” Ralf shrugged. “I talked with the French servant who guards the priest’s gate. He didn’t welcome my questions, but a coin with an English king’s head serves as well as one engraved PHILIPVS REX. After payment for his time, he confirmed that a lay brother had come from the hospital and was sent away with the excuse reported.”
Eleanor waited, then asked, “To whom did this man give the message?”
“He gave it to one of the clerks but could not recall which one.” Ralf scowled.
Brother Thomas turned to his friend. “Might the man’s testimony be suspect? You paid him for the truth. Someone else might have paid him more to lie to you.”
For a long moment, Ralf stared at the wooden crossbeams in the ceiling. “It matters not if he was asked to lie about the clerk to whom he gave the message. It only matters that his story about the hospital lay brother confirms that of Sister Anne.”
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