Satan's Lullaby

by Royal, Priscilla

  “Now we have evidence that Sister Anne acted responsibly within the limits imposed upon her by the priest.” Eleanor gestured for Gracia to refill the mazers. “You also spoke with the lay brother who went to the priest with her message?”

  Ralf nodded.

  Putting down the pitcher and almost dancing with enthusiasm, the maid turned to her mistress.

  Eleanor smiled. “Do you have something to add, Gracia?” How like a child and yet how unlike one, the prioress thought. She never knew which aspect of the maid would manifest itself.

  “While the crowner was questioning Sister Anne, the clerk, Renaud, was very displeased when she offered an analysis of the cause of death.”

  “Was he now?” Eleanor folded her arms.

  “Until that moment, he had remained silent and busy writing down the testimony,” the girl added.

  “Well noted,” Ralf said. “Sister Anne had had time to think about the presence of autumn crocus in the clerk’s room. From what she was able to learn about the symptoms, and what I told her about the corpse, she is convinced that Jean was poisoned with it. There are other lethal herbs that exhibit similar symptoms and cause death in the same number of days, but she saw no reason to think another method had been used when the autumn crocus was inexplicably found at the bedside. Once again, she confirmed that she had sent only chamomile and ginger with the elusive, hooded clerk. When she said that, Renaud stopped writing and insisted that she was lying.”

  Gracia enthusiastically nodded.

  “He demanded that her opinion be deleted from his record for he believed it was only an attempt to hide either her murderous intent or her incompetence and carelessness.” The crowner snorted. “Careless? Incompetent? Ignorant whelp!”

  Knowing Ralf had more to say, Eleanor said nothing, raised an eyebrow, and waited.

  The crowner leaned forward to continue. “I asked him what experience he brought to the matter of solving crimes. He confessed he had none as such, but he was knowledgeable in debate over higher matters pertaining to Heaven. I told him to use those skills when he took vows and let me deal with more worldly problems. I am crowner here. Heaven may be the Church’s realm, but murder is mine.”

  Eleanor laughed.

  “That did silence him,” Gracia said, her eyes twinkling.

  Ralf’s eyes shifted to look at a fat loaf of bread, fresh from Sister Matilda’s oven and sitting on the nearby table.

  “What was your opinion after you heard Sister Anne’s answers to your questions, Ralf?” Eleanor tilted her head toward the crusty bread, smiled at her maid, and looked back at the crowner.

  Gracia brought the warm loaf to the crowner, who eagerly tore off a large piece and gave the maid a wide smile.

  Chomping down on his fistful of bread, the crowner continued. “When have I ever doubted Sister Anne’s conclusions in these matters? She had no doubt that it was murder. Neither do I. The problem is how to convince that thick-skulled priest…” He turned aside and coughed in an effort to keep from insulting the other representatives of God in the room whom he considered friends.

  Eleanor covered her mouth to hide her amusement.

  “The use of autumn crocus as a treatment for gout is not widely known, but Sister Anne said its use as a poison has been recognized for centuries. What she did not understand was how it got to the clerk’s room. When I told her that the remedy had disappeared from the chest in the apothecary hut, she was horrified.”

  “Nor was Renaud pleased when he heard this, my lady,” Gracia added.

  “Why do you say that?” Ralf looked with curiosity at this maid. “I did not see anything to suggest such a reaction, nor did he voice any concerns.”

  “Did you not smell him, my lord?” Gracia wrinkled her nose. “He stank of fear.”

  Ralf eyes widened in surprise. Although he was an observant man, body odor was not something to which he paid much attention, other than the flowery scent his wife gave off when he held her. Knowing he had flushed with the thought, he lowered his head and muttered, “No, child, but then I was concentrating on what Sister Anne was saying.” He glanced up at the prioress.

  “You are keen,” Eleanor said to the girl. “What else did you notice about the clerk?”

  “He twitched a lot as soon as Sister Anne began discussing the effects of autumn crocus. The more she explained, the more his face lost color.” She paused, then noticed the crowner seemed eager for her to continue. “When you finished questioning our sub-infirmarian, and he began packing up his writing instruments, I think I saw him weeping. I am not certain about that, but I would swear his cheeks glistened in the candlelight.”

  “His tears are consistent with his grief over the death of his fellow clerk.” Eleanor shook her head. “His protest that her conclusions were as faulty as her cure might have been a loyal repetition of his master’s own assumption. What I do not understand is why he showed fear, not bewilderment or even anger, over the theft of the autumn crocus. Does he know who Brother Imbert is, or is he afraid he knows who is involved in this death, someone he wishes were not?”

  “We have never asked him for the name of the person who administered the remedy to Jean. Was Renaud really the one to give Jean the medicine? Perhaps he is taking the blame, for reasons he has not told anyone, when he truly had no part at all in his companion’s death,” Thomas said.

  “So many questions,” Eleanor said. “We have yet to identify this Brother Imbert. Renaud must be questioned further. I suspect he does know far more than he has said. Maybe Father Etienne ordered the lad to keep silent.”

  The three were briefly interrupted when a lay sister brought a tray from the kitchen.

  Ralf’s eyes widened in delight when he saw Sister Matilda’s vegetable pie.

  Gracia served the company but gave the crowner an especially large slice.

  Ralf took an equally huge bite, then continued. “I would like to hear your opinion,” he said to Eleanor. “Is it possible that the priest had a hand in this death?”

  The prioress was relieved to see her friend’s legendary appetite had returned. “I doubt it, Crowner,” she replied, her expression grown serious. “I believe Father Etienne is devoted to his family honor and to his sister, our abbess. He left the French court to investigate our priory with the sole purpose of protecting her reputation in Rome, and I am certain he intended to resolve the accusation hurled at us in a manner that would give the most credit to the Davoir name. An untoward death in one of Abbess Isabeau’s daughter houses is scandalous and only sullies her reputation further. In addition, why would he kill his own clerk, especially one he favored?” She looked down at her uneaten food, then gestured for her maid to take it away. “No, Ralf, I do not believe he is a killer.”

  “Yet he has no love for our Order, my lady.” Gracia had that solemn look the young often do when allowed to speak freely in the company of adults.

  But Eleanor was most taken by the girl calling the Order of Fontevraud our Order. Although she would never force Gracia to take vows, she was touched by these hints of fondness for the priory and its rules. “He may not approve of women ruling men, but Rome has sanctioned the Order and his sister has been placed in charge of it, a high honor for a noble family. With these circumstances, he will set aside his personal opinion for the authorized one.”

  “Then I should question Renaud further,” Ralf said.

  The prioress nodded. “Have you spoken to the guard captain about the death on the journey here?”

  “Not yet, my lady, but he is staying at the inn, and I shall delay no further.”

  “Did you ask our sub-infirmarian if the container she saw was the same one stolen from her apothecary?”

  “I did not,” Ralf replied.

  “I would like to see that container in which the autumn crocus was held.” Eleanor stopped and shook her head with annoyance. “So
meone else must do that. I cannot, nor should I chance the discovery that it was brought to me in secret.”

  “I could slip into the room, look, and describe it to you and to Sister Anne!” Zeal for the game glowed in Gracia’s eyes.

  “I shall not ask that of you,” Eleanor replied. “Searching through Jean’s room without clear purpose would endanger the safety of my best spy.”

  Initially disappointed, Gracia frowned at first, then her smile indicated she had chosen to be content with the intended compliment.

  “Ralf, you may ask to see it,” Eleanor said. “Look at it well, and we shall get the description to Sister Anne.” Gesturing to her maid, she smiled. “Since you take her meals to the cell, you can whisper the description in her ear, and she can tell us if it is the original container or if there is something noteworthy about it. My hope may be slim, but if the jar comes from the hospital, that may suggest the man named Brother Imbert stole it. If it is not, the owner of the jar might be found or suggest the identity of the killer.”

  The girl eagerly agreed.

  “I shall insist on examining the dead clerk’s room,” the crowner said. “Davoir can threaten hellfire on me all he wants. I shall remind him that no detail should be overlooked, for I wish to protect his sister’s reputation just as much as he.” He grinned at the prioress. “I promise to be more subtle than that, but he will be made to believe that I wish him no ill.”

  “And question Renaud.”

  “That too. I can tell him I want to go over his written report. In so doing, I can pose questions. When he grows uneasy, I shall press him on it.”

  “At last I feel more confident that we will resolve this crime without giving Father Etienne cause to cast the discoveries aside,” Eleanor said.

  “You have every reason to hope, my lady,” Gracia said, then pointed to Ralf and herself. “You have us.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gytha winced and pressed a hand against her belly.

  “Is it time?” Signy stood up, a worried expression on her face.

  “No, but he kicked hard enough to make me wish it were so.” Gytha started to grin but winced again. “Nor shall I ever forgive our mother, Eve, for bringing this upon us all.”

  Signy sat down again and smiled. “Your child shall come soon enough.”

  Looking at the bowl of chicken and vegetable soup set before her, Gytha dipped her spoon to take a sip, then set it down and sighed. “Without Sister Anne to assist, my husband will be terrified.”

  “And you?” Signy reached out and squeezed her friend’s arm.

  “I fear this less than he, although birthing is a perilous time. Even if I do not have Sister Anne in attendance, I will have you to support me, and the comfort of your gift of the jet cup. Surely Sister Oliva, whom our beloved nun is training, will be a good midwife.” She watched the fragrant steam rise from her bowl for a long moment. “Should I die, Signy, take care of Ralf and Sibley. And if I can bear a living babe before my death, will you…”

  “I swear all of that, but I have prayed much to God and am confident that He has no wish that you suffer more than any woman must in birth.” Signy grasped her friend’s hands and held them tight as if she could keep Death from Gytha’s side by sheer force of will. “You served Prioress Eleanor well before you married. Ralf, for all his faults, honors our prioress and serves justice fairly. God has grounds to bless you with a safe delivery and a healthy child.”

  “Ralf’s last wife did not deserve her death.”

  “We do not know what cause God might have had for allowing that sorrow. After my prayers on your behalf last night, I rose to my feet with a heart lightened of fear. I take that to be a sign that those pleas have been heard with favor by Him.”

  Her tension dissipating, Gytha decided that God was most likely to listen to Signy, a woman of quiet charity and honorable spirit. “You have given me courage,” the young wife said.

  Signy released her iron grip on Gytha’s hands, and the two women smiled at each other with deep affection.

  Resting her chin on her hand, the innkeeper said, “Although I do not wish to ask too much of God, do you think this babe might be the son both Ralf and his brother desire?”

  “I have no doubt of it,” Gytha said with a laugh. “He kicks like one of my brother’s donkeys, refuses to be born until he wishes it, and, I fear, will have a ravenous appetite like his father when I put him to my breast. This is no trembling daughter of Eve that I carry, but one who thinks he is the master of the world around him.”

  “From that description, I believe you will most certainly give birth to a Norman son in the image of his father’s kin,” Signy said with dutiful solemnity.

  Gytha sat as close to the table as she could. “But Ralf is distraught, as am I, over the injustice bestowed on our beloved Sister Anne.”

  “Has he found anything to help prove her innocence?”

  “Nothing except his knowledge that she would never kill the clerk.”

  “So her version of events cannot be proven.”

  “Nor disproved. The other clerk says a certain Brother Imbert brought the remedy and gave instructions for its use. Sister Anne says Father Davoir sent a clerk, whose face she could not see. The brother named is not one of our priory’s religious, lay or choir, nor has he ever been.”

  “Then the clerk’s story truly cannot be proven any more than hers.” Signy shrugged. “Sister Anne cannot be condemned on such thin evidence.”

  “But who had motive? The priest believes that our sub-infirmarian killed the clerk out of spite because her request to question and treat the lad was denied. The worst accusation is that Prioress Eleanor ordered her to kill the clerk, frighten the priest, and make him flee before he discovered the evils hidden in the priory.”

  “What wickedness?” Signy snorted. “The mill does not make a profit?”

  Gytha smiled but quickly moved away from that subject lest she be asked for more detail. “Ralf cannot find a reason for anyone to kill the clerk.”

  After gazing over her shoulder and around the inn, Signy cupped her hands around her mouth to further muffle her softly spoken question. “Did Ralf not mention a man named Conan?”

  Gytha thought for a moment, and then shook her head.

  “He is the captain of the guard that brought Father Etienne and his group of clerks from the port. When Ralf was last here, he approached your husband for company, or so he said, and seemed quite curious about the priory and village.”

  “He did mention that but not the man’s name. I told my husband that any stranger might look for amusement and ask about the village and priory. I saw nothing odd about the questioning, but my husband was troubled.”

  Signy nodded. “After Conan left his table, Ralf asked me if anyone had told the captain that he was the crowner here, for the man had called him by the title. I had not and, when I questioned the serving maids, I learned that none of them had either, nor had they seen him asking any of the other townsmen. Indeed, this Conan is a solitary man and habitually sits apart from the usual customers and even his own soldiers. Do you not think it odd that such a man would seek your husband’s companionship? ”

  “Is he here now?”

  Signy subtly indicated a man sitting alone in the far corner of the inn near the entrance.

  “A soldier, from the scars I can even see,” Gytha said. “As my husband has told me, a man accustomed to battle does not sit apart from his men if he has shared the company of Death with them. He may lead them, but he eats what they eat and endures the same hardships. I do not understand why he remains aloof, and Ralf may not have noticed this.”

  “Then tell your husband that I find Conan odd as well. He does not spend the night in his bed either. Since I live near my inn, I can see the entrance and have witnessed him slipping away after I have gone to seek my own rest.”

 
“In which direction?”

  “Night swallows his shadow before I have had a chance to see if he walks toward the priory or simply into the village.”

  “A woman?”

  Signy chuckled. “There is a serving maid here whom I saw flirting with him. When I questioned her, she confessed that the coin he flashed to pay for extra ale had tempted her to find out if he might tuck another into her hand for lying with him, despite his terrible face, but he has done no more than smile at her.”

  “She is fortunate he did not take her to the hayloft. You do not countenance whoring.”

  “As she well knows! She already has one babe born after accepting a pretty coin. I reminded her of this.” Signy shook her head. “But I fear there may be many babes born after these men leave. I see their eyes following any woman they see and know that they will seek bedmates because they have nothing else to do.”

  Gytha wondered if any had dared approach her friend, then decided that few would try. She had seen the look Signy gave those so bold. Castration might be less painful. “Ralf told him that the inn did not allow whoring, and he seemed to accept it. To have so quickly found a woman from the village willing to lie with him seems unlikely.”

  “The cause of this man’s strange habit may prove to be dreams of war that drive away sleep.” Signy looked pensive. “That is the most harmless conclusion. In truth, I do not like the man and trust him less.”

  “You say he leaves the inn every night?” Gytha thought for a moment. “’Tis a pity we cannot have him followed. It might be helpful to know what he does.”

  “Your husband’s sergeant?”

  “He is some distance away, helping Tostig build a shelter for my brother’s new flock of sheep.”

  Signy frowned in thought, and then looked up with a grin. “My Nute is small enough to go after this man for just long enough to see where he goes. If fortunate, we may even learn why the guard captain leaves every night.”