Had he spoken too quickly? Had he sounded too casual? Thomas could not meet Rainold’s eyes for fear of what the man might discover in his soul.
“So you did not see Hywel?” Rainold’s speech hinted of mockery.
“We did not.”
The sheriff’s brother smiled.
Or was it a sneer, Thomas thought.
But Rainold walked on, and the two men said nothing more on their walk back to Sir William’s house.
Chapter Twenty-One
Prioress Eleanor and Sister Anne did not wait for Brother Thomas’ return, choosing instead to go back to the hunting lodge.
Sister Anne did not want to miss any early signs of illness in Elizabeth. Although the sub-infirmarian assured her friend that there was no significant cause for concern, both knew that postpartum mothers often developed fevers. Sister Anne did not need to mention that the results were commonly fatal.
“I have observed that frequent bathing before the birthing to ease a woman’s pains, suggested by a manuscript from Salerno, also seems to reduce the chance of fever later,” she said to her prioress, “but your sister-in-law spent too much time in that cart on the journey here when neither bathing nor calm were possible.”
“Then there is reason for us to worry.” Eleanor spoke slowly to keep her inflection calm.
Sister Anne shook her head. “I simply do not wish to be complacent or unprepared. I have been told that there is an excellent spice merchant in this village. One of the lodge servants said he will immediately send anything I need and is willing to be awakened if herbs are required at night.”
“Then you have prepared as well as any mortal can. May God have mercy as well,” Eleanor replied and bowed her head.
* * *
When they had walked just a short distance further, Eleanor looked back and saw Eluned leave the sheriff’s house and walk toward them.
Putting her hand on the sub-infirmarian’s arm to catch her attention, she tilted her head in the direction of the maid. “Now might be the time to question her, if you believe the delay is safe enough. We can do so on our way, since she seems to be going in the same direction.”
Anne agreed.
Eleanor called out to Eluned.
The maid had been walking, head down, as if deep in thought. When she heard the voice, she looked up, first startled and then displeased. The latter sentiment was quickly banished as any servant would wisely do.
“Let us walk together,” Eleanor said. She pretended to ignore the guarded expression on the maid’s face and gave her a disarmingly warm smile. “I have no wish to keep you from your tasks, but I would like to gain a better understanding of the problem we have been asked to solve.”
“My help will be inadequate to your needs, my lady, but I am willing to share what little is possible.”
Briefly, the prioress let the woman’s phrasing echo in her mind to discern any hint that Eluned might have given herself leave to equivocate. She decided the woman had, but also concluded it would be prudent to keep that conclusion to herself. “Any tiny detail may be useful,” she replied.
Eluned modestly bowed her head.
“You were friends with Hywel’s wife. What do you know of the man?” It is an easy question to answer, she thought, and her manner of reply might be as important as the information she gave.
Eluned blinked. “I rarely spoke to him at the time, my lady, but his wife was a good woman and loyal to the king. I doubt very much that she would have stayed with her husband had he been a traitor.”
This surprised the prioress. “Once married, what woman has that choice?”
“She had a brother still living. He would have protected her if she had left her husband for good cause. In truth, the parents hadn’t liked her marriage to the Welshman, but she convinced them he was worthy.”
“Had he lived in the village long?”
Eluned bobbed her head in agreement. “Since birth. When his parents died of a fever, he raised his two younger brothers, found them craftsmen to teach them trades, and set them on a good path.”
The prioress watched the maid’s face turn pink. What had caused the flush, Eleanor wondered, yet she found no hint in that short tale, nor any particular reason to question the truth of what she had just heard. It was a detail she chose to set aside and ponder later.
“Why, then, do you think he led the marauders who killed the soldiers?” Eleanor asked.
The maid’s eyes narrowed with instant and outraged anger. “I never thought he was guilty.”
Eleanor stopped. “On what do you base your conclusion, my child?”
Now the maid’s face was scarlet. “Why should you believe me? Does Welsh blood not flow thorough my veins?”
Eleanor might have been offended by this rudeness from a woman of such low rank, but she was not. “I have no reason to doubt your word on that basis alone,” she replied, both her tone and words intending to calm. “My family has property in the Marcher region. When I was growing up, my father never spoke ill of the Welsh. Indeed, he found them a clever and talented people. Although my allegiance is firmly with King Edward and I believe the current war is misguided, I see no reason to assume all Welshmen are as benighted as a few. But in violent times, passions grow hot and often burn away cooler logic. So I must ask you again why you think Hywel was innocent. Why might he not have found Dafydd’s cause compelling and joined a band of raiders?”
The surge and range of emotions that flowed across Eluned’s face shocked the prioress. Then, after so much unexpressed feeling had exhausted the maid, Eleanor was surprised anew by a look that suggested the woman was ready to confide in her. Sadly, that expression quickly vanished.
“I can offer you no satisfactory answer to your question, my lady. As I said, I rarely spoke with him. Yet he might have gone to Wales after his wife’s death. He did not, nor did he ever utter a word against our king. Had he done so, it would have been spoken of on market day.” She looked over her shoulder as if hearing something behind her.
But Eleanor had seen tears building in the woman’s eyes. She chose to ignore that and changed the focus of her query. “Sir William seemed upset that his wife had shown support for Hywel.”
“He most certainly did not favor Hywel, although that displeasure was recent.” Eluned had turned back but did not look directly at the prioress.
This was an unusual departure from the expected loyalty to masters, and Eleanor chose to set it aside but not forget. She also decided to encourage the deviance and see where that might lead. “Was this change before or after the accusation of treasonous murder?”
“Before, my lady. Sir William is much older than his lady wife and, I fear, owns an older man’s jealousy of any younger one.”
“He thought his wife was…?”
Eluned franticly waved the very suggestion away. “Lady Mary’s greatest sin was looking on the man once! Indeed, I saw her smile at the sight of him that day, and she sinned no more grievously than that. But I am ignorant of all the ways we women can commit grievous errors. As a prioress, you would know better than I if her husband should have felt his head for horns and if she committed a dire infidelity with that single glance.”
“And you would have cause to know if she ever lay with the stonemason?” Eleanor chose bluntness and carefully watched the maid’s face.
Eluned did not even blink at the question. “I share her room on those rare nights her husband does not join her in the marital bed.”
Eleanor knew that couples, eager to lie with each other, could find many locations and times to do so without waiting for a soft bed. Yet she truly doubted that such effort had been made by the Lady Mary. Not only did the sheriff’s wife seem disinclined to exert herself in any fashion, Eleanor would be surprised if she was able to sustain an interest for long, even a flash of lust.
“Do you know if
Hywel viewed your mistress with equal delight?”
Eluned laughed. “He couldn’t have pointed her out in a group of her equals on the major Rogation Day when we all process around the village and pray.”
An interesting remark that suggests that the maid knows him better than she claims, Eleanor concluded.
“Or so he told his wife once.”
And thus she takes care to explain her knowledge, the prioress thought. Yet why would the stonemason even comment about Lady Mary to his wife? What had occasioned it? Had Hywel’s wife reason to question his fidelity?
With a hint of pride in her eyes, Eluned straightened her back. Then she lowered her gaze to show the proper humility in the company of her superior. “My lady, unless you wish to detain me further, I must leave you here. My mistress has sent me on an urgent errand to speak with the man who has ordered some furred gloves for her. The delivery is late, and she is profoundly distressed.”
“Go, my child. I am grateful for your answers. As a stranger, I know nothing of the village and those who live here. You have taught me well. Should your mistress criticize you for any perceived delay in following her command, please tell her that it was I who kept you from your tasks. She may ask me if she wishes.”
Bowing with murmured gratitude, Eluned hurried off.
“Did you find that conversation as interesting as I did?” Eleanor turned to Sister Anne.
The sub-infirmarian smiled with some sadness. “I find that I like her, but she has secrets,” she replied, “ones that may well involve the hanged man.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rainold and Brother Thomas saw the prioress and Sister Anne at the same time and hailed them.
“Well met, my lady,” Rainold said and bowed with courtesy. “Brother Thomas and I have just left the abbey chapel and were about to part.” Flashing a smile that might thaw the eternal northern ice, Rainold then quickly scrutinized the state of the ground beneath him, knelt, and begged a blessing.
Although Eleanor was well aware of the dangers of beguiling men, and was not immune to their appeal, she no longer feared the impact on either her heart or reason. Instead, she chose to match his attempt to charm with an equally agreeable smile and gave the requested gift. If Rainold believed he had blinded her to his faults, so be it. She still thought he was a foppish man.
After a profuse expression of gratitude, Rainold did not stay longer but chose to return quickly to his brother’s house.
Eleanor wondered if his swift disappearance might be a good metaphor for the substance he lacked and turned her attention to her monk.
Brother Thomas looked as gray as the sky. If anything, she concluded sadly, the time since their last meeting had increased the sourness of his morning after a night of drinking.
Remembering her fear that he had broken his vow of chastity with a woman last night, she knew she was blushing and grew angry over her reaction. Was she not willingly vowed to God? She might grieve over his sin, but she had no right to be jealous.
Yet, if she had been his earthly wife, she would have had no problem remaining faithful to their marriage bed. He was the only man for whom she suffered this unshakable longing.
With determined firmness, she reminded herself that she was not his wife. If this monk had broken his vows with some wench at the inn, it was a matter for his confessor. If it were but one lapse in a life otherwise known for virtue, it was not her concern and she did not want to think any more about it. Penance would be served. Forgiveness was mandatory. Resolved to comply, she gritted her teeth and ordered herself to do so, but jealousy, as she well knew, was a malignant thing and not so easily cut out.
“I have examined the corpse of Bardolph, my lady.” Thomas winced as if his throat was sore.
Not yet trusting herself to speak, she gestured for him to continue.
“He was murdered and not by any spectral liegeman of the Prince of Darkness. A mortal struck him unconscious with a heavy blow and then hanged him. Or so I believe. I doubt the blow would have killed him, and do not know if he was conscious after being hanged, but I find it ridiculous to conclude that an imp would have done this.”
Sister Anne asked for details of what he had observed, and then said, “I concur with your opinion, Brother.”
“It seems we are dealing with a killer of one man, possibly two, although the death of the priest is less likely to be murder,” Eleanor said. “I am puzzled by this. Two men are dead who had a connection with the hanging of the brigand. One seems to have died a natural death. The other was certainly murdered.”
“I share your puzzlement,” Brother Thomas said. “In addition, Rainold now claims that he saw the ghost of Hywel outside the inn before the night watchman told him of Bardolph’s death. The coincidence of that and the sighting of this hellish creature worry me.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “The sheriff’s brother has seen the ghost? Bardolph was a witness to the spirit kneeling near the corpse of Father Payn. He is now dead. Is Rainold in danger because he saw this vision of the hanged man? Will there be other deaths?”
“Perhaps others have seen the spirit,” Thomas said, “although I have yet to find a man who actually has besides Rainold and Bardolph.” Thomas colored in embarrassment. “These merchants began to claim late last night that the stories all came from women, who gathered the tales from other women on market day, or else in idle chatter.”
Eleanor bit her tongue. Brother Thomas had always been reliable, never disappointing when she asked him to gather information. This time, he had failed her. He should have pursued the questioning of the merchants with greater diligence. Instead, he had drunk too much and let the moment pass for getting answers until the men had all decided to blame women for the tales, an excuse she considered hypocritical. Eve might have much to answer for, but she did not bite that apple for Adam.
And why had he not pressed harder to learn what she needed to know? What wench had brushed her breasts against him and filled him with blinding lust? As jealousy burned through her again, she clenched her fist, and heard the Devil’s mocking laughter.
Bitter and embarrassed, Eleanor looked away, pretending to be lost in thought.
It was then she saw Eluned walking toward the abbey with something bulky in hand.
The prioress frowned. Hadn’t the maid said she had been charged by Lady Mary to check on a glove order? If so, why was she going to the abbey and not back to her mistress? Was the item she carried the ordered gloves or was it something else?
Forgetting her anger with him, she turned back to Brother Thomas. “I think you need to question more of the villagers, Brother.”
He shifted uneasily. “The largest number of men was together in one spot last night, yet I failed to discover anything of value.”
“Perhaps you chose the wrong time to query them. The men seemed to have had too much time to grow merry with drink. Or perhaps you did not ask the right questions. I fear you must pursue this issue with greater thoroughness,” she replied as she kept her eye on the disappearing maid.
He blinked and lowered his gaze. “I shall try harder, my lady.”
“There is another who holds secrets,” the prioress said and told her two monastics about seeing Eluned just now walking toward the abbey and why this made her so curious. “She is hiding something. One or both of you should wait and see if she leaves Sir William’s house tomorrow and follow her.” The prioress asked Sister Anne if she thought she might be able to do so.
“If there is any reason why I should not, I will let you know,” the nun replied.
“If Sister Anne cannot, Brother Thomas, you can still follow the maid, but do not let Eluned see you and do not ask her questions unless you deem it prudent. If my suspicions are ill-founded, we should know soon enough.”
Sister Anne and Brother Thomas agreed, and the trio left the village.
As
they crossed over the bridge, Sister Anne looked at Brother Thomas with sympathy but chose to say nothing.
Prioress Eleanor deliberately separated herself from the other two, walking slightly ahead of them with a determined tread and an even more unusual silence.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In the tiny room set aside for any priest accompanying a hunting party, Thomas bent down over the basin, splashed water on his face, then poured water over his head from a pitcher, and roughly dried himself. Taking a rag and some salt mixed with crushed mint, he rubbed his teeth and gums to cleanse them and freshen his foul breath.
His body felt better. His spirit did not.
Although he had never owned a profound faith, and did not take vows out of any desire to do so, Thomas had spent over ten years in a daily and ardent quarrel with God. More recently, he had come to believe that God was giving him answers to his agonized questions, albeit slowly and in tiny bits that took yet more time to comprehend in all their complexities. The replies were not what he would have preferred to hear, but some had given him far more comfort than he had expected.
A sexual union apparently remained forbidden, but he was beginning to think that God otherwise had no objection to a bond of committed love between two men. When Durant came into Thomas’ life, they struggled with lust, yet the monk had also discovered a peace he had never felt before—even with Giles, his first love.
Now, with his relationship with Durant in question, Thomas had lost that fragile peace he had found, as well as all hope and confidence that God had ever listened or cared. Looking back on last night, he was terrified at the depth of his despair and how he longed to cast himself so willingly into Hell. Perhaps he had not technically broken his vows to God, for his lust had remained unsatisfied, but he had sullied them. Even after the loss of Giles and his torments in prison, he had retained some sense of honor. When he gave his word, he kept it. Last night, he had lost even that trace of integrity.
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