The Twice-Hanged Man

by Priscilla Royal

  Thomas sipped his wine first. “Bardolph told me that he had seen Hywel kneeling by the body of Father Payn. He had no doubt that it was he, yet he said he did not believe in phantoms.”

  “In truth, neither of us did. Although a few of the souls he had sent to Hell over the years were vicious in life, I occasionally worried about vengeance but he always calmed my fears,” she replied. “As for seeing Hywel that night, Bardolph was perplexed by what he had witnessed when we later spoke of it. He had been on his way home from visiting me. We had had a merry evening, but he had not drunk much. He rarely did. The moon gave off good light.” She shook her head. “There was no reason to imagine anything or fail to see the man’s face clearly.”

  “I have heard rumors that many claim to have seen the spirit, yet only one besides Bardolph has confessed it to me, and no one can tell me the names of others. Now, it seems that the sightings may be the result of market day chatter amongst wives.”

  Maud raised an eyebrow. “One? I doubt anyone else has seen anything. Men hear others say that something has happened, or is true, and they fear mockery if they do not aver the same. As for wives, they are blamed for everything from impotence to a bad harvest.” She flushed. “Forgive me, Brother, but my views are born out of the sins of men.”

  Thomas laughed, then grew serious with his next query. “Bardolph did not tell others of what he had seen?”

  “He had no close friends, unless you count me, nor was he inclined to idle prattle. When Abbot Gerald asked him questions about the priest’s death, he replied honestly. He told the sheriff the same tale. Those men had the right to know. Other than that, he did nothing else to spread the tale.” She studied Thomas for a moment, and then added, “Nor did I.” But she could not resist curiosity. “Who was the other one who claimed to have seen Hywel’s spirit?”

  “Rainold said he might have seen the ghost the night Bardolph died.” Thomas watched her face for a reaction.

  She chuckled. “Rainold was the witness? Sir William must have told him what Bardolph said. Perhaps the man did think he saw something. More likely, he imagined it. One of my girls can confirm that he likes a little fantasy to keep him happy.”

  Thomas raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Maud sat back with a playful display of feigned shock. “Really, Brother? You want to know what swells his manhood?”

  “I came late to this vocation and am not ignorant of the world,” he replied with a grin, “but I know nothing of the sheriff’s brother.” He did not tell her why he was interested and most certainly nothing about the troubling conversation he had had with Rainold after examining Bardolph’s corpse.

  She wiggled her hands in amusement. “It is a common enough game. He likes to pretend he is a great lord and my girl his helpless servant. He never hurts her, or I would drive him out of my house.” She sighed. “He is a foolish man, yet I sometimes pity him. It must be hard to be the younger brother of a man he neither loves nor respects.”

  Thomas took note but had another question for her. “Did Father Payn have any enemies in the village?”

  She pondered a moment. “He was never very good at being a priest. Like some, who find themselves doing something for which they have no calling, he suffered resentment and sought others to punish for his pain. When his lack of vocation weighed especially heavily on him, he could be cruel.” She raised a hand dismissively. “Oh, we all know sinners need rebuke and penance, but he took against some more than others. For instance, all knew he had bedded the same mistress for many years, but he rarely lashed out at Bardolph and me as if he felt an odd kinship with us.” She shrugged. “With others, however, he gave little hope for God’s mercy.”

  “Was the spice merchant one?”

  She looked surprised. “Little escapes you, Brother. Yes, he was a man whose soul Father Payn claimed was irrevocably in the Devil’s hands.” She sighed. “Master Lambard is pleasant, honest in business, and charitable to the poor, but his particular sins are ones my girls cannot satisfy.”

  Waiting for her to continue, Thomas remained silent. He did not need to ask what those sins were.

  “Perhaps the young man will find a more forgiving priest when Father Payn is replaced.” It was clear she had nothing further to say on that subject.

  “Might Lambard have killed the priest?”

  “He is not a violent man! As we all do, he surely owns a blackened soul, but, in my opinion, there are others far more wicked than he. According to tales told, he spends more time in front of the church altar than many others in our village. For all the arguments those two men had, I cannot imagine the spice merchant killing the priest.”

  Thomas hoped his face had not flushed too much. “Who is more wicked than the spicer here?”

  “How can I reply, Brother? Am I not the most stained of all? I could give you a list of men whom I do not like, men prone to striking my girls or cheating their own customers. That would not lead you to the man who killed my beloved. I know of no one who would kill two men with such heartlessness. Even our butcher has been heard to utter the occasional prayer before he slaughters for meat.”

  Although he wasn’t quite sure where this might lead him, Thomas decided to ask the question. “Sir William and his wife. What do villagers think of them?”

  “Ah! You ask for good gossip!” She clapped her hands with delight. “Lady Mary is a silly poppet and has failed to give her lord an heir, despite the many times she claims he honors her bed. Sir William is stern with those who break the law, but he is fair about proving any violation.” She grew serious. “When Hywel came to him in defense of his brothers, and apparently confessed to the murder of the sleeping soldiers, the sheriff sought objective confirmation of the crime.”

  “Rainold?”

  “As I heard, the younger brother witnessed the raid and, despite hesitation because of the respect Hywel owned amongst us, he finally came forth to give his testimony to his brother.”

  “One more question,” Thomas said. “Do you know where Hywel is buried?”

  “No,” she replied. “Nor did Bardolph. His duty ended when he released the corpse.”

  With that Thomas graciously thanked her and rose to leave.

  At the door, Maud told him that, if he thought she could help, she would answer any further questions. Then, with a swift look around, she bent forward and, in a low whisper, assured him that he could return any time he wished.

  Thomas replied with a grin and a blessing.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Eleanor was happy that her monk was back with her again. No matter how jealous she might be of the carnal sin he might have committed that drunken night at the inn, she felt certain it was one unlikely to be repeated. Over the years, he must have been tempted many times by women without breaking his vows. The circumstances that night, she repeated to herself with increasing determination, were unusual.

  Looking at him now, he seemed more at ease after the visit to Bardolph’s mistress, a woman who owned the village whorehouse. Oddly, this comforted her. If Brother Thomas had actually lain with a woman, and suffered as deeply as he did the next day, the last thing he would have been willing to do was go into a bawdy house.

  Perhaps he never did lie with any woman, Eleanor thought, but was merely tempted after too much ale. If that was his only transgression, she could easily forgive him. Hadn’t she been guilty of lust?

  She audibly sighed with relief. After napping for a short time after her visit to the church, it seemed she had awakened not only refreshed but wiser.

  Thomas looked at her in surprise.

  “I grow weary of knowing so little, Brother. Forgive my impatience.” Eleanor hoped the truth of this would keep her other thoughts about him hidden.

  “We have gained some understanding of those involved, my lady, and, for all her sins, I found Mistress Maud’s thoughts and observations helpful.�
�

  This was the man she had always known, endowed with compassion, unusual perceptions, and a logical mind.

  “I agree from what you told me.” She laughed. “Her description of the Lady Mary as a poppet was the perfect image for her. And, wicked though it may be, I found Rainold’s fondness for playing the mighty lord while swyving his whore quite funny.” She grew graver. “Yet Sir William is called fair, albeit neither much admired or loved. And despite his quirks, pomposity, and fondness for posing as a man still in his youth, he is not mocked? That is interesting.”

  Thomas was tempted to tell her what he had learned about Lambard and his quarrels with Father Payn, then decided against it. If he did, he would have to explain why he was looking into whether the merchant had any involvement in murder, and he was still unable to justify it without telling the truth.

  During his first agony over his sin, he had almost told her anyway, but she had made it clear, as was her wont, that any confession must be given to a priest. Had he lain with a woman, would he have confessed that sin to her? As his prioress, she had the right to know.

  “Let us go to the abbey church, Brother. I wish to show you something and require your opinion.”

  Still lost in his thoughts, Thomas simply nodded agreement.

  No, he would not have told her, he decided. She firmly believed in the right of a priest to hear confession, render judgment, and order penance. It was her duty to assume this had been done and to direct the other aspects of priory life, unless the sin was so heinous she was obliged to know. Many monks and priests broke their chastity vows. Look at Father Payn, he thought. Lying once with a woman might be shameful, but it was not monstrous.

  What he had done, however, might well be considered abominable. He had let a man touch him in ways the Church taught God especially abhorred. Unlike with Giles and Durant, he didn’t even have the excuse of love. Thus his fall from God’s embrace felt like Satan’s spectacular descent from Heaven to Hell in a flaming arc like the morning star which had given the former angel the name Son of the Morning.

  Thomas felt the tears well up once again. Was he truly one of the irrevocably damned?

  For the moment, it didn’t matter. He had sworn to do nothing until they had returned to Tyndal Priory. Until then, he owed his prioress all the help he could give her.

  Rubbing his eyes dry, he realized that Prioress Eleanor had hurried ahead of him, and he quickly followed.

  * * *

  Today, no one was kneeling in the ebb and flow of shadow and light near the altar.

  The pair went quickly to the ambulatory surrounding the apse, and Eleanor showed the monk the heavy door she had previously discovered.

  “It may lead to a crypt,” she said. “I think Abbot Gerald told me that the abbots were buried here.” She put her hand against the rough panels. “It seems to be locked. I cannot imagine this is where Eluned vanished, yet I could find no other solution. That other door, which probably leads outside, makes too much noise when pushed. I heard no sound.”

  “Sister Anne found that outside entrance when we were here.” He turned back to the other one his prioress had pointed out. “Most crypts in small churches have entries through a moveable stone in the floor,” he said as he stared at the door. “Sister Anne did not mention two doors to the outside, and I see no light through the cracks in the paneling.”

  He knelt and examined the lock and round iron handle. Without much light, he used touch to do so. After a moment of wiggling the door, he rose and pulled it open. It moved quietly on its hinges. “The lock is faulty, my lady. I was able to loosen it without much effort by raising the door up slightly here and moving it a bit to one side at this point.”

  “A woman would be able to do this?”

  “Easily enough if she knew how.”

  “We need light of some sort. I want to see what Eluned might be visiting behind this door.”

  * * *

  It did not take Thomas long to retrieve a flickering cresset lamp near the altar.

  With the monk leading the way, the pair slowly and carefully descended a few narrow stone steps to the brick-lined crypt below. The arched roof of the vault was so low that Thomas’ head brushed the top.

  The silence that greeted them was as solemn as Death itself. Despite the weak light, they were able to see a few stone coffins in an orderly row. Their simplicity gave credit to the vows these men had taken while on Earth. Unlike some abbots in more prominent abbeys, these men had apparently remained humble and knew their bodies would return to the earth from which God had made Adam. The only decoration chiseled into the lids was a simple cross.

  Eleanor shivered. All mortals must face this truth, she thought. The body was nothing, the soul all. She bowed her head out of respect for the dead, to honor God, and to remember that the goal of one’s short time on Earth was to be gentle, remain faithfully humble, and practice charity.

  “No one is here,” Thomas said in a hushed voice as if he, too, was subdued by the presence of those who had gone to face God’s judgment and were now spending eternity under His verdict.

  Eleanor suggested they walk around the crypt, seeking any evidence to answer why a lady’s maid might visit here on a daily basis.

  It did not take long.

  “There!” The prioress indicated a spot on the ground between two coffins.

  The monk hurried to where she pointed and knelt. “A mazer,” he said, raising a small cup for her to see before replacing it and picking up another item, “and this box.” He put it to his nose and sniffed. “Meat?”

  She knelt as well and took the box. “Or a pottage of meat and pulses. I would also conclude that the smell suggests it was fresh.” She ran a finger around the inside. “The meal was eaten not long ago. The wood is still damp.”

  “Then Eluned is bringing food to someone here?”

  “So I believe.” Eleanor looked around. “Yet no one is here.”

  Thomas jumped up and hurried from one coffin to another, trying to see if any of them remained unoccupied. Finally, he leaned against the last coffin and thudded his hand on the top. “None have been left open.”

  The pair quickly walked through the small crypt again, seeking any hidden door or loose bit in the stone floor or brick wall that might lead to a secret hiding place. Satisfied that no one was able to hide here, they retreated to the spot where they had found both mazer and box.

  “It is a mortal who has been hiding here,” Eleanor said. “Ghosts do not need food and drink.” Her laugh at the attempted humor was brief.

  “Hywel’s two missing brothers?”

  “We cannot discount that, although there is only one mazer and one box of food.” Eleanor knelt again to look but found nothing more.

  “Eluned comes at approximately the same time every day, presumably carrying food and a little drink. Why here, other than the ability of Eluned to come to a church without question? Do they share the meal? The men must vanish after, since no one is here now. If so, where do they go?”

  “We do not know whether she comes a second time, although that might be difficult considering her responsibilities to her mistress,” Eleanor replied. “If the brothers are hiding nearby, they may not come here together. Or one may have hidden himself elsewhere, and someone else feeds him.”

  “The question remains: where could they possibly hide?” The name of the spice merchant immediately came to mind as the possible second person to help the brothers.

  “Or is it just one person?” She threw her hands up in frustration.

  “The lamp is dying, my lady,” Thomas said at last.

  “Then we shall leave,” Eleanor replied, “but we must find an answer to this enigma soon.”

  With that, the pair climbed the stairs, shut the door, returned the lamp to its niche, and walked back to the lodge.

  When the door shut, an
d darkness fell once again on the dead, a loud sigh filled the crypt, a sound heard only by corpses.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sir William was angry, as only a man can who would rather be warm in bed with his wife than hurrying through a cold night.

  “May Satan fry Wido’s balls,” he muttered. Why the innkeeper insisted on meeting him at the bridge instead of coming to the sheriff’s house was a mystery. The relayed message gave no reason, only that it was urgent and dealt with the killing of Bardolph.

  Stopping to catch his breath, Sir William put a hand to his chest and felt his heart pounding. His physician had recommended that he eat less and spend more time walking or riding. For an instant, he wondered if the man was right, then stubbornly concluded that he was a fool as all lanky, pale-fleshed physicians are.

  A man needed his wine and meat to heat the blood. As for exercise, he had his wife to swyve. He grinned at the thought of her plump breasts and felt a pleasurable twinge in his manhood. It had failed him of late, but this troubling murderous spirit was surely the cause. The problem would be wearisome for a man of any age. He had no reason to think he was old enough to fear impotence.

  Taking in a deep breath, he hurried on.

  Since their marriage, he had made sure to satisfy the marriage debt as often as possible, although his many duties as sheriff sometimes took him away from her. Yet his wife had no cause to look elsewhere for satisfaction, and he truly had no reason to suspect she did. Now that Hywel was safely dead, Sir William was convinced that his concerns about the stonemason were unfounded.

  When he caught her looking at the man and wetting her lips, he had grown hot with jealousy. She quickly explained that she had been engrossed in deciding what the cook should prepare for dinner to please her husband, that she was staring at nothing but her thoughts, and wasn’t even aware that the stonemason was within view.