The Twice-Hanged Man

by Priscilla Royal

  From the grave expression on Sister Anne’s face, Prioress Eleanor knew her sub-infirmarian blamed herself for her inability to find where the maid had gone. “There is a rational explanation, and we shall find it,” she said, then smiled. “I could always ask the abbot. He knows the secrets of the church and seems eager to engage me in conversation about the ghost, as well as his plans on how to conquer and rule the Welsh.”

  “Perhaps we should not encourage him. He might find he has yet a third task for you.” Sister Anne briefly smiled.

  Eleanor did not seem to hear her friend. She was gazing out at the small piece of land her family owned. Then she turned to her companions. “Were it not so close to the dangers of war, I would find this place restful.” Shaking her head as if to cast off her distracted thoughts, she continued, “Were there any others in the church? I ask in case someone might have witnessed her frequent visits there, know the cause, and what she does.”

  “I saw one,” Sister Anne said, looking at Thomas who had remained quiet. “Did you notice any others?”

  He turned to his prioress. “Only the man. The light was poor, but I think he was the spice merchant I spoke to at the inn. He remained in prayer the entire time Sister Anne and I were looking for the maid, left just after Eluned did, and hurried to accompany her on the path back.”

  “They knew each other?” The prioress raised an eyebrow.

  “I do not know,” he replied, “but, in such a small village, they might well. I did not think it suspicious that they walked together.”

  “Merchant and lady’s maid?” Eleanor thought about that for a moment. “A woman of Welsh descent and an English merchant?” She looked at her two companions with a questioning look.

  Thomas frowned. He had not thought about that, especially the differences in ancestry during a time of war between the two peoples. Silently, he cursed himself for his inability to banish the blinding distraction of his own misery.

  “That may well mean nothing. I am grasping for anything out of place, no matter how small,” the prioress replied. “We have so little solid information and less that is new. The two victims are connected to the hanged man. Although one death was not likely caused by violence, Bardolph’s was.”

  “Father Payn, whom some might say lacked a heart for refusing absolution, died because his heart did,” Thomas said.

  “If we assume there is a condemned soul back from Hell to wreak vengeance, it must still be murder if that liegeman of the Devil causes a man’s heart to stop.” Anne frowned with puzzlement. “But surely that crime is beyond the authority of any earthly justice.”

  Thomas continued. “The hangman is found swinging on the same gallows where he executed the brigand. Might the manner of these two deaths point to the killer?” He waved his hand as if an annoying fly was buzzing too close. “Other than Abbot Gerald’s ghost, that is.”

  Anne hesitated. “We can never discount Satan’s minions, Brother, but I saw no signs of violence on the priest. Even the Prince of Darkness leaves his mark.”

  “So Father Payn’s heart ceased its work,” Thomas replied. “Someone might have known his heart was failing and chosen to frighten him to death.”

  Eleanor acknowledged the validity of their points but was still pondering why the merchant rushed from prayer to walk so companionably with Lady Mary’s maid. Unable to come to any reasonable conclusion, she said, “If there is this link between the deaths, we should worry that the second witness to the presence of the ghost, Rainold, is in danger.”

  “But the other two were directly connected to the dead man’s execution.” Thomas frowned.

  “So is Rainold,” Eleanor said. “It was he who gave testimony at the trial that caused the Welshman to be hanged.”

  “I had forgotten,” the monk replied with evident irritation.

  “If we conclude that some mortal, not the brigand’s soul, is stalking the village, there does seem to be a pattern to the deaths.” Sister Anne‘s expression showed she shared the monk’s frustration. “Yet why would someone want to kill those who caused the stonemason’s death?”

  “An excellent question,” Eleanor replied, then looked at the monk. “You have spoken with the spice merchant. Has he a wife?”

  Sister Anne blinked, perplexed by the prioress’ question. Then she realized that Eleanor was wondering if the merchant and maid were lovers.

  Thomas felt himself grow weak. “No, my lady. He told me that he has not been able to take time from his prospering business to woo.”

  “As for Rainold,” Eleanor said, “I may dislike the man, but I accept that he either witnessed something eerie or had another purpose in telling that story. What think you? Might it be significant that his claimed sighting occurred near the inn?”

  Thomas winced and hoped neither woman saw it. He most certainly would not reveal that another purpose might include what Rainold possibly witnessed happening between two men in a narrow passageway nearby. Thomas could only hope that Rainold, as a soldier, held the fighting man’s general disdain for those who prayed, especially their weak adherence to any vow of chastity. With luck, the man’s mockery, on their way back from viewing Bardolph’s corpse, would remain his only mention of the sin he might have observed.

  He realized that both Prioress Eleanor and Sister Anne were looking expectantly at him. He shook his head. “I do not know why the inn would have any significance. The light from the open door, according to Rainold, might have made the identification of Hywel easier.”

  “Yet do not ghosts and wandering souls from Hell eschew light?” Sister Anne looked to the prioress who nodded.

  But now Thomas realized that his prioress might be right about something she had mentioned. Wasn’t the friendliness between Lambard and Eluned odd? Was there a treasonous link? Did Father Payn suspect such a thing and might that be why he had to die?

  If that were the case, the monk could not see how Bardolph was involved. The man had mentioned nothing to him about any traitor besides Hywel when they had talked. He had simply insisted he had seen Hywel’s ghost. Thomas put a hand against his forehead. His head felt ready to explode.

  Sister Anne grimaced as if she suffered the same affliction. “I can see no significance in the sighting at the inn, although I am now concerned about Rainold’s safety as well as that of all the men who condemned Hywel at his trial. Half the men in this village might be in danger for some involvement in that case.”

  “Another man I spoke to has assured me that all who must go out at night now do so in pairs. I think caution has taken hold of everyone here,” Thomas said.

  “But I am thinking that your concern over Eluned and the secrets she holds are crucial. What involvement might she have?” Sister Anne folded her arms in thought.

  Eleanor nodded. “Something is amiss with her. You and I agree on that. I cannot explain exactly why I think so, but I am convinced she knows more than she has admitted. We know she was friends with the wife of the hanged man and is of Welsh blood. How well did she know Hywel and his family? Might she have some knowledge of his two brothers? I still wonder what happened to them. It would not surprise if they are rendering their own form of justice against those who executed Hywel.” Eleanor looked from monk to nun in hopes one might offer some fresh insight.

  Sister Anne spoke first. “Eluned believes Hywel was a good man. Does she think that because she is Welsh, because she was friends with the man’s dead wife, or because she has some reason to think he was wrongly executed?”

  “Her frequent visits to the abbey are interesting,” Eleanor said. “I had wondered if she and the spice merchant were lovers and met at the abbey.”

  “That would not explain why she disappeared during his prayer and they only met together on leaving,” the sub-infirmarian said.

  “Unless they were both aware that someone was in the church with them and decided to meet privat
ely another time when there were no witnesses.” Eleanor shrugged. “Perhaps I am making the reason for their meeting too complicated.”

  “Interest in her actions has merit,” Thomas said. And so does mine in Lambard’s, he thought, but had to remain silent about his reasons.

  “I am also curious about the original source of the rumor that the brigand’s ghost is haunting the village,” Eleanor said. “Now the rumor has gained wings after Bardolph’s death, but it began with Father Payn’s. Where did it come from? Why was it started? Why did it continue while Bardolph remained alive?”

  “It occurred to me that Bardolph, like Father Payn, might have had a woman in the village, my lady,” Thomas said. “I can find out and talk to her.” And, he thought, perhaps she might have more information about Lambard’s reputation and loyalties.

  “That would be helpful,” Eleanor said, and then turned to the sub-infirmarian. “As for Eluned, we need to question her further. Would you…?”

  Someone called out to them, and they looked back to see a servant running in their direction.

  The woman’s face was pale. “I fear you are needed by the Lady Elizabeth, Sister Anne.”

  The prioress froze. “Something is wrong?”

  “A slight fever,” the woman replied.

  “How slight?” Both Eleanor and Sister Anne asked at the same time.

  “I do not know, my lady,” the servant said, but her eyes betrayed her distress.

  The sub-infirmarian put a calming hand on her friend’s arm. “The spice merchant will have a good supply of willow bark needed to bring it down, and there is wine enough to make an infusion.”

  For a long moment, the prioress looked at her in worried silence.

  “With God’s help, I believe she will survive this, but I do not want to leave her side until I am certain.”

  “Then I shall remain there as well,” Eleanor said.

  “Your prayers are needed, but so are your efforts in this crime,” Anne replied. “Let me know where I can send word, should you be needed, and I shall send a servant if your sister-in-law’s condition worsens.” She put one hand on the simple cross she wore around her neck. “I swear it!”

  Eleanor’s jaw set. “I shall remain at the lodge. When you need rest or must prepare any remedies required to heal her, I can sit by Elizabeth’s side. And I will pray for your success as you care for her. If Elizabeth dies…” Her eyes grew moist.

  Anne put her fingers against her prioress’ mouth. “Do not even speak of it. We must pray instead and have faith in a swift recovery.”

  But the nun was also well aware that Eleanor was torn. She might long to tend to her family needs out of love and concern, yet she must also solve this problem of an ephemeral ghost. She had given her word to the abbot, and it was her duty to honor it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Brother Thomas left the lodge the next morning after the sun had just crept into the sky above the treetops. The scent of smoke from the village, filled with the promise of roasted fowl, rich pottage, and the lingering scent of fresh bread, made him smile. At least he still had moments when the darkness of melancholy lifted and life had flashes of peace, even if happiness remained unreachable.

  He was grateful and hurried with eager purpose toward the bridge that spanned the small river.

  Last night, he decided to find that merchant who had sought him out in the town square and apparently knew Lambard well. Thomas thought it interesting that the man had seemed uneasy, even slightly guilty, because Lambard was left alone with Thomas after too much drink. Did he know that Lambard was fond of men in his bed? Had he feared that the spice merchant would try to seduce a man vowed to God and felt he should have intervened? It was quite possible that he had either succumbed to temptation himself or knew others who did. Whatever reason, the man had been especially willing to help, and Thomas was grateful.

  Of course, Thomas would ask him if Bardolph had a mistress and who she was, but he would also find a way to learn more about the spice merchant’s reputation. He was determined to discover whether Lambard had any reason to kill Father Payn and Bardolph.

  After a deep sleep, Thomas had risen this morning in a calmer mood and also resolved to be fair to Lambard. He would not be one of those men who pointed to the sins of others in order to hide their own faults, and he could not condemn a man for trying to tempt him, when he had been willing enough to sin. But he dared not ignore the possibility that the man had had a more sinister motive.

  He breathed deeply until the air hurt his lungs. The pain made him feel oddly content, an inexplicable reaction. But he had no quarrel with any brief moment of calm.

  It did not take long to find the helpful merchant.

  When he saw Thomas approach, he smiled, albeit cautiously.

  After the usual courtesies, the monk eased the conversation into what he needed to know. He began with the simple question about whether today had brought fresh rumors that the hanged man was still troubling the village.

  “The death of Bardolph makes us all tremble, Brother, and men have concluded the phantom still roams. Yet no one yet claims to have seen him. Many pray he has satisfied his longing for revenge and returned to Hell—or at least chosen a far distant village to wander through. We would be glad if he did either.”

  Thomas joined him in that hope. “I was wondering why Lambard thought we might see this ghost so near the inn.” He realized that was not a wisely phrased question so quickly clarified why he was interested. “Did the place have some significance for the brigand while he lived?”

  The man shook his head. “He was not a man fond of much drink. When his wife was alive, he never went to the inn. She made their own ale.”

  “Might Lambard know any other reason why the spirit would so deeply hate Father Payn or Bardolph? Of course, one had denied the Welshman absolution and the other was his hangman, but most damned souls would not bother with such things, preferring to torment unfaithful wives or men who had deeply wronged them over many years. I ask the question so I can dismiss any other motives for this desire for vengeance against the two men.”

  The man thought for a moment. “I cannot say, Brother. You must ask Lambard. He had some private quarrel with Father Payn and might know if Hywel had a similar problem. I would not know if they ever spoke together about the priest.”

  “Were you at the hanging?”

  “Aye. Although I usually don’t go to executions, this one was different. I felt betrayed by Hywel. I was shocked by the verdict, for I never thought he would have killed Englishmen, especially in their sleep. His wife was a good woman of our village, and he had never expressed any anger against us.” He gestured as if pushing those thoughts aside. “Now his brothers were different. If they’d been hanged, none of us would have been surprised. They have since vanished, and we all think they have fled to Wales.”

  “What do you remember of the execution?”

  He shivered. “It was a strange hanging, as if either God or Satan was displeased by it. The gallows broke, you see, and some men believe that means God wants one or both condemned to be spared. Hywel, however, was already dead. Bardolph declared it.”

  “And his corpse was taken away for burial?”

  “No, Brother. He was hanged again.”

  “A dead man? Yet the hangman surely saw no need?”

  “Rainold ordered it. He said it was his brother’s wish, lest there be any doubt the assassin of innocent men was dead.”

  “Did Sir William have any reason to doubt Bardolph’s experience and judgment in such matters?”

  “I have never heard of any problem with a condemned man being cut down, then scrabbling to his feet and praising God’s mercy for saving his life. It happens elsewhere, thus I must accept Bardolph’s skill.” The merchant hesitated. “In the past, Brother, we did not have great cause to hang men from the village.
Now, outlaws are everywhere, and treason against the king suggests we may have more executions in days to come.”

  “Then it seems strange, does it not, that Rainold insisted the corpse be hanged again for the reason he gave?”

  The man nodded. “He had come on the sheriff’s behalf to witness this execution and has done so before. When Sir William sends him, all know that Rainold speaks with his brother’s voice. Perhaps the order was given to please the crowd, for the crime committed was a heinous one.”

  “Did you hear Father Payn refuse to give Hywel absolution?”

  “I did not. I was standing too far back in the crowd, although I did hear the priest and the stonemason shouting. Then there was a roar of approval from those standing closest to the gallows. Later, I heard the tale.”

  Thomas was at a loss to come up with more questions. Stalling for time, he gazed around the square, then asked, “I do not see Lambard. Do you know where he is so I might ask further about any problems between Father Payn, or even Bardolph, and Hywel?”

  “I have not seen him since the night we were all at the inn,” the merchant replied with a slight flush rising on his cheeks. “I feared he had been taken ill, but his servant said he had been at the abbey church, praying for his sins. Apparently, he took a vow to spend a few days on his knees. You might seek him in front of the altar.”

  “If he has a tryst with God, I will not trouble him,” Thomas said. Despite his duty to pursue answers to questions, he was relieved that he had an excuse not to speak with Lambard alone. He would still have to find a way to get those answers in the presence of another. It was quite possible that Lambard’s time in the abbey church had far less to do with a penitential vow than why Eluned was also there. “But, if I may, I would ask one more question and then will take no more of your time.”

  With courtesy, the man assured the monk that he was happy to do anything to help rid the village of this plague of violence.