The Twice-Hanged Man

by Priscilla Royal

  Thomas slid to the floor and knelt, head in hands. “What happened? Why have I not heard from him? Other than wishing to couple, we have not sinned.” He struck the floor in anger. “How have I offended to deserve this torment? Have I not begged for enlightenment and tried to comprehend what little guidance You choose to give me? I need direction and wisdom, not this mockery of granting comfort, tempting me with peace, and then casting me aside! That is Satan’s way. I thought You were kinder to the honest seeker of truth.”

  As was often the case when he begged for help, he was enveloped in stillness. Today, it was stifling.

  He sat back on his heels. Were a sharp enough knife near to hand, he would be tempted to commit self-murder. If he must live in such despair and his soul was doomed to Hell anyway, why not?

  Inexplicably, he began to laugh. Raising a fist heavenward, he shook it with bitter mirth. “Last night, I was willing enough to go to Hell if the circumstances were right. Yet now I hesitate to kill myself.” He slammed his hands on the floor. “Durant is elsewhere, has remained silent, and I have no hope of ever seeing him again. Why should I not go the Devil?”

  He stopped laughing but continued to look upward with defiance.

  Was it his imagination or had the silence turned softer, as if a gentle hand had just caressed him? His rebelliousness subsided. He had lost the passion for it, if not the reason.

  Thomas sighed, shook his head in defeat, and rose. “Very well,” he said with resignation. “I have a murder to solve. It seems You still require me to assist my prioress in that matter, but I do so only out of my respect and love for her. Until we have returned to our priory, I shall make no further decisions on whether to leap into the eternal fires with a dagger in my heart.”

  He headed out the door.

  * * *

  The afternoon air was still damp, but the autumn sun gave some warmth. That hint of comfort slipped under the embedded melancholy in his soul and opened a tiny passage that allowed in a hint of light.

  One decision he did make now, one to which he felt God would have no objection. Thomas swore not to return to Wido’s inn, and, if He were kind, the monk hoped he would not have any further contact with Lambard, the spice merchant.

  He walked across the bridge and glanced down at the river, but the churning black waters did not tempt him.

  Brother Thomas had a duty to perform for Prioress Eleanor.

  * * *

  Although there was no market today, the square was crowded with villagers.

  A party of horsemen arrived at the inn, dismounted, and went inside. As the horses were led to the stables, they seemed eager to rest, and one brown palfrey looked around, perhaps hoping for a meal. Closer by, two women waved their arms and laughed as they shared a tale. Weaving in and out, children chased each other, heedless of those around them. One elderly man slipped, as he avoided their charge, but caught himself before he fell.

  “Brother?”

  Thomas turned and saw a merchant approaching. He had been one of the company at the inn last night.

  The monk forced a smile.

  Clutching his hands together, the man swallowed first, then said, “I fear we did you a disservice last night, Brother. We often drink to a congenial merriment after a profitable market day. By the time you asked your questions, we were in no state to take your need for information as seriously as we ought.”

  “Nor did I ask the right questions,” Thomas replied, “and, I fear, I drank far more than my vocation permits. My sin is far greater than any you might have committed.”

  “You are kind, Brother, but I beg you to ask your questions of me now. In the brighter light of a more sober day, I want to make amends and perhaps help you.”

  Thomas brightened and explained his problem. “Abbot Gerald is worried about the death of Father Payn. Now Bardolph the hangman has died. There have been two admitted sightings of the spirit of this hanged man, Hywel, and the abbot fears he is haunting the village and may be the assassin of these two men. Exorcism has failed to banish any phantom. My prioress offered our services to help, but to do so we need reliable information.” He chose to hesitate and wait for a response.

  The man bowed his head. “I grieve over Bardolph. He was not a bad man. Someone has to be the king’s hangman, and he showed reasonable mercy to those he executed.”

  “The abbot says that many others, not just two, have seen the ghost. Is this true? Is so, what are their names?”

  “I have no names. No one of my acquaintance has seen this evil spirit.” The merchant looked around and stepped closer to whisper. “This morning I spoke with some of my friends. They confirmed that they knew of no one who has seen the creature, although a few fear it walks the dark passageways at night.”

  “Any names at all?”

  “No one claims to have seen anything, Brother.”

  “But the rumors continue.”

  “They do. Perhaps we want to believe the ghost has been seen to give reason to our fears. We no longer walk out at night without someone with us. I have also advised others to take care. Some point to their wives as the ones who tell the harrowing tales, but I am afraid and cannot blame a wife, for I am a widower.”

  Thomas scowled, not because of the lack of information but because he was beginning to wonder if he had deliberately been duped last night by the spice merchant. Did Lambard already know that no one could help? If so, why had he suggested otherwise?

  Looking back on the evening, he realized that he had been distracted from asking questions until both he and the others had drunk beyond need. And all the while, Lambard’s hand had frequently rested on his thigh until lust became more insistent than any longing to get answers for his prioress. Had seduction been the plan all along and the claim that others might know about the ghost only a means to accomplish that?

  “Brother?”

  Thomas realized he had just growled. “Forgive me,” he said. “I am eager for this thing to go back to Hell, if it indeed walks the Earth.”

  But the man looked uneasy. “I was also concerned about whether you encountered anything untoward after leaving the inn last night.” Nervously, he licked at his lips. “It was dark, and I thought you had gone…in the direction of the gallows.”

  He and Lambard had most certainly not gone that way, but Thomas realized that this man might have been aware of the seduction going on despite the drink. Or perhaps this merchant had also once been fondled by Lambard after too much celebration.

  Thomas wrestled the memory back. “Since Bardolph died last night, your concern is warranted. We had hoped to see the ghost, innocent as we were of the murder, but quickly grasped that we were in no condition to seek it out. We emptied our bladders, parted, and I went back to the Wynethorpe lodge and my prayers. I hope the spice merchant made it home safely as well?”

  The man looked relieved. “I spoke to his servant this morning and heard nothing untoward.” He took a deep breath. “If I hear anything more that might be of interest to you, Brother, shall I send word?”

  Thomas thanked him, then watched the man hurry away. As he looked around the square, he decided there was no one else likely to be this cooperative. Wives would hesitate to gossip with a monk. Of the men, this penitent merchant had probably spoken with most of them this morning. It was unlikely Thomas could glean more.

  He turned back to the road leading over the bridge.

  As Thomas proceeded to the lodge, he decided it would be wise to seek his bed, but he must also escape into prayer. Despite his quarrel with God, it was an act that sometimes gave him needed distance from problems. In particular, he must face the events of last night and think clearly about why the spice merchant had distracted him from his purpose. Was it just a longing to sate his lust with him after too much ale, as Thomas had first assumed, or was there another reason having far more to do with the sin of murder than
that of lechery?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next day, Sister Anne found Brother Thomas in the lodge chapel, and the pair hurried toward the sheriff’s house, hoping the maid left at approximately the same time after tending to her mistress’ early needs.

  With such a small village, there was little they could do to hide their inexplicable circling of that house, nor could they pretend to be on their way to the abbey church for prayer. That was in the opposite direction. Sister Anne solved the problem by suggesting they visit the spice merchant for the purpose of finding a seasoning that would improve the appetite of the new mother.

  Of all places, this was the last one Brother Thomas wanted to go, but he could find no excuse to avoid it. He had to agree.

  Fortunately, Lambard was not in the shop, nor did Thomas see the servant who had grown so cool when he was obliged to bring refreshments after Lambard invited the monk to his residence above the shop.

  This icy glare by a servant had bothered him at the time. Now he suspected that the man might be the merchant’s regular lover. Yet what did the servant have to fear? Under no circumstances could Thomas threaten his spot in Lambard’s bed. He was a monk from a priory on the other side of England.

  A horrible thought struck him with painful force. What if Durant had found another man, one who meant more than his usual casual encounters, and that was the reason for his silence? The pain Thomas felt was so sharp he almost cried out.

  Determined to recover his composure, the monk turned around and stared out the shop door.

  While the sub-infirmarian begged the help of the apprentice, asking many questions to which Thomas knew she had the answers, he pretended a captivating interest in the ways of the world which a religious might well exhibit, despite his vows. The open door also provided an excellent view of the sheriff’s house.

  He glanced back at the sub-infirmarian.

  She gave him a pained look. It was clear that she was running out of questions to ask.

  He shrugged.

  She settled on a spice. The apprentice took out a small box and filled it.

  Suddenly, the monk saw Eluned emerge from the house. He looked back over his shoulder and said, “We must return, Sister. I fear we will be late for prayer!”

  “I have finished here, Brother,” she replied and, eyes modestly lowered, thanked the youth.

  Eluned had not gone far by the time the pair emerged.

  It was difficult enough to follow the maid without her realizing they were there. What was harder was complying with two separate villagers who stopped them and begged blessings from Brother Thomas. While Sister Anne tried to keep her eye on the woman who was walking at a swift pace, the monk did his best to satisfy pious longings but still avoid any subsequent discussions of a troubling or profound spiritual nature.

  When the last man asked for help in determining when he could put the last bite of meat into his mouth before the Lenten season began, Sister Anne announced with evident sorrow that their prioress would put a heavy penance on them if they delayed their return any further.

  “We have not lost the maid,” Anne whispered to Thomas. “She is on her way to the abbey.”

  “And, as she did yesterday, I think she is carrying something,” he replied, and they increased their pace.

  * * *

  Eluned hesitated at the entrance to the abbey church that served the village. After a brief look around, she vanished through the doorway.

  It did not take long for Anne and Thomas to slip out of the wooded area, in which they had tried to hide themselves, and follow her inside.

  The abbey church was short and square. The entry was decorated with an outer stone arch, chiseled with images of fruits, vines, and leaves. The inner arch was made of large stones, the base of each side resembling a pillar. On one side there was a crude image of a lamb while the other portrayed devils with suffering souls, although age and weather had dimmed the clarity of their misery.

  Inside, it was dark, the air chill. A narrow window on each side and high above the altar directed weak beams of light down on the cross. A few other slender windows, widely spaced along the walls, welcomed less daylight but invited rain and damp. Near the altar, candles smoked and flickered. A few cresset lamps sat in niches along each wall.

  Squinting as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Anne looked around. “Where has she gone?”

  Thomas sought the maid as well, but the only person he saw was a man kneeling in prayer close to the altar.

  Cautiously, the pair moved further into the church, their eyes growing more accustomed to the shadows. Agreeing to search separately, Sister Anne went to the right, Thomas to the left.

  The sub-infirmarian disappeared into the gloom.

  As he slipped along the side, he found no places for the maid to hide. Then he looked at the kneeling man who was so deep in his orisons that he seemed unaware that anyone else was in the church.

  Thomas bit back a gasp with such force that his lip bled.

  The man praying was Lambard.

  Shaking, the monk begged God for calm as he retreated as quietly as he could. At a safer distance, he stared at the man. Had Lambard so regretted their sin that he had come to beg God’s forgiveness? Had the spice merchant also suffered from the same unbearable loneliness Thomas did? If so, perhaps that was the only reason for the seduction.

  For a moment, Thomas felt some relief. It was one thing to fall into sin out of hopeless sorrow. It was another to deliberately take advantage of someone’s weakness to wantonly destroy a soul.

  Yet a small voice, sneering in tone, murmured inside his head that the man had never shown any hesitation about the seduction. Nor was he likely as alone as Thomas if the merchant was regularly swyving his manservant.

  Thomas struggled between a surge of anger and a wish to regain reason. Did he have good cause to suspect the merchant might be involved in the deaths of two men and the seduction was a trick to distract him from investigating further with greater vigor? Or was he trying to cast Lambard into a far more evil role because he had violated his honor and wished to blame another for his own wickedness? He could not cast aside either possibility.

  The merchant’s head remained bowed, and he still had not moved.

  Thomas worked his way around to the other side of the church, keeping to the rear so the merchant could not see him without turning around, and waited for Sister Anne.

  It did not take long for her to join him.

  Thomas pointed to the kneeling man, put a finger to his lips, and gestured for her to follow him outside.

  When they had walked around the side of the building, he stopped.

  “I did not find her,” Anne said. “Behind the altar, there is a dark, narrow passage, but I needed light to see all that is there and failed to see Eluned. What did you find?”

  “Nothing,” Thomas replied. “There was no spot she could hide on that side of the church. It is a simple structure.”

  The sub-infirmarian gestured back at the entrance. “Shall we go back? Perhaps your eyes are better than mine in the dark.”

  Thomas shook his head. “I do not want to disturb the penitent there.” But he did wonder if she might have escaped when they were looking for her.

  “As you said, Brother, it is not a big church. It is unlikely we would have missed seeing her if she was there, nor could she have passed by one of us on the way outside.”

  “Let us stay a little longer. If she is in there, she must surely leave.”

  “Might there be an entrance for the priest?”

  “It is unlikely,” he said. “Father Payn lived at the abbey and would have walked here with others. Yet there is often a side door.”

  “If you stay here, you can watch for Eluned at the entrance. I shall go to the other side and see.”

  Thomas agreed. All they needed t
o know was whether the maid was inside. It would not take long to get back together and follow her from here.

  Anne quickly returned. “I found an entry. It is securely locked. Unless she has a key, it is unlikely she left from there. And, if she did, why enter by the main door and leave by the other one?” She shrugged. “And for what reason would she have a key?”

  While she was talking, Thomas was peering around the corner of the church. He raised his hand and gestured to Anne.

  From the entrance of the church, Eluned emerged. Nothing was in her hands. She took the path back to the village.

  As the pair started to follow, Thomas suddenly stopped and whispered to Sister Anne to wait.

  The spice merchant had left the church and was rushing to catch up with the maid.

  “What is it?” Anne looked worried.

  “Nothing,” he replied. Indeed, he could not explain to the sub-infirmarian why he suspected the merchant of being involved in murder. Outwardly, there was no reason why Lambard could not walk with Eluned, and, this being a small village, everyone knew each other. “My only concern was that we must be careful that no one sees us, including that man who has been praying inside.”

  Sister Anne agreed but something in the monk’s tone made her wonder if something else was bothering him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I could find no way she could have vanished,” Sister Anne said to her prioress, “but she did.”

  The trio of monastics walked slowly along the crest of the hill near where the lodge house sat. The changing autumnal afternoon now flaunted a suggestion of summer warmth and mocked the impending winter. The only clues that those suggestions were false were the sharp bite of a breeze that turned their cheeks pink and the rotting leaves that lay under damp trees.