In silence, Eleanor begged God to forgive her the lie she had just told and for the false certainty with which she claimed her monk’s innocence.
Looking back on that morning after the events at the inn, she now understood why Brother Thomas might have been overwhelmed with guilt. Perhaps her lie just now would be proven true, and he had grieved over a sin unwillingly suffered. He may have fled after recovering from the shock of the merchant’s touch. She simply did not know.
But this was not the time to dwell on discovering the truth of what occurred. God’s justice took precedence. She turned to Robert. “Take this foul man away,” she said.
Then Eleanor watched with grim satisfaction as the men led the shrieking Sir Rainold out of the house to which he had so briefly laid claim.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Immediately after the killer had been taken to a dank cell, Lady Mary gave Robert of Wynethorpe the names of all who might confirm that her brother-in-law had shown resentment against Sir William, even expressing the hope the sheriff would soon die, and had not been where he claimed on the nights Bardolph and the sheriff had been killed.
One of those witnesses mentioned another, a man who told Robert that he had seen Rainold near Bardolph’s hut the night of the murder. Yet another witness swore he had seen the younger brother walking toward the bridge the night of the sheriff’s death.
When asked why neither had come forward before, each reminded Robert that everyone believed the ghost was the murderer. Damned souls were responsibility of the Church and men vowed to God, not worldly men of sinful nature. Once a creature of flesh and blood had been arrested, however, they had come forward immediately to honor their obligations as loyal subjects of King Edward.
Between arrest and execution, Rainold drifted into madness, screaming from his cell that a man should not hang unless a witch was burned. Feigned or not, he howled like a wolf, danced until his chains rattled, and did his best to portray a man under a spell.
In truth, it did not matter whether anyone believed he was mad or had been bewitched. He would hang, and he surely knew it.
When he was finally hauled up on the gallows beam by a hangman imported from another town, the villagers watched until his dance in the noose ended and then turned away with what some described as a collective sigh of relief. With evil men, all knew there would be an ending to their crimes, if nothing else in death, but the ire of condemned and vengeful spirits was eternal.
* * *
It was the day after the execution of Rainold that the Lady Mary sent a message to Prioress Eleanor, begging her to honor the widow with a visit before she permanently left the sad house she had shared with her dead husband. The new sheriff, once appointed, would take it over as one of his residences.
Eleanor was surprised, not at the woman’s desire to leave but at her wish to speak further with a person so deeply connected with the tragic events. For anyone, not totally devoid of feelings, the time, albeit short, between the arrest of Rainold and his hanging must have been grueling for the widow.
Yet when Prioress Eleanor and Sister Anne entered the room, Lady Mary greeted them with unexpected grace, and then begged them to sit and enjoy refreshment.
Eluned, quiet and obedient as always, served a fine cider and retreated to the wall with eyes modestly lowered in a manner that was intended to make everyone forget she was present.
“I wished to thank you for all you have done, my lady. On the morrow, I leave this place forever, but I could not do so without expressing my gratitude and offering a gift to your priory.” The widow bowed her head respectfully but not before flushing with an undefined emotion.
“Yet Sir William died,” Eleanor replied. “I grieve that we were unable to discover the slayer until afterward.” The widow’s face had acquired a unique beauty, the prioress realized. She was also struck with another difference between this woman sitting before them and the woman she had first met. Lady Mary was no longer a simpering fool. She had acquired dignity.
“He has left me with a gift, however,” the Lady Mary said softly. “I am with child.”
Eleanor recovered herself before she betrayed her surprise and swiftly expressed delight with the news.
“Sadly, I was unable to tell my beloved husband that God had answered our many years of prayer, but I am sure his soul knows and rejoices. I most ardently pray that the news will ease his suffering in Purgatory.”
Quickly agreeing, Eleanor’s curiosity was too strong to ignore, although she had to be very careful with her questions. “I assume your brother-in-law did not know either,” she said, “for I remember he said that you had not produced an heir.”
“And, as I recall, I answered that we had not been so blessed.” The widow fell silent as she looked at the prioress as if waiting for a response that failed to come. “I deliberately did not tell Rainold, my lady. As you noted, he was a clever man and easy with charm. In truth, I feared for my life with him and that of any child I might bear. To protect myself and babe, I pretended to be fooled by his attempts to win my esteem. As a consequence, he concluded I was witless, willing to do anything he wished, and foolish enough to think he meant it when he swore to do me great honor should my husband die and he became heir.”
“Yet your pregnancy would soon become evident…”
“I had not yet decided how to escape to safety before my quickening was obvious.” She glanced over at Eluned with affection. “My maid and I talked much of what plans we should make, but you brought matters to a close quickly and saved my life as well as that of my unborn child. God answered our prayers in you.” She looked down and touched her belly with a loving gesture. “My son,” she said softly, even her voice glowing with love. “And I do believe that God has granted me a son, whom I shall name to honor my husband.”
Eleanor tried to calculate when this pregnancy could have begun but decided she could not without asking. Nor was there any point in so doing. As she well knew, the widow’s response would be wisely vague.
“Rainold was a truly wicked man,” Lady Mary was saying. “He tried to seed distrust of me in my husband’s heart by claiming I lusted after the stonemason.” She shook her head. “I barely noticed the man, although I knew who he was. One day, my maid pointed him out to me as the one who had married her friend. That must have been when Rainold saw me viewing the man with a pleasant expression and concluded he could turn my innocent thoughts into something damaging.”
“You were brave enough to speak up on Hywel’s behalf at his trial.”
Lady Mary glanced briefly at her maid. “If Eluned was convinced of his innocence, then I did all I was able as a favor to a very loyal servant. Testimony to the man’s character was insufficient. Rainold’s testimony was far stronger.” Her interest in trials and murder slipped away as she again smiled down at her belly.
Eleanor bit her lip. The lady was far cleverer than she had realized and briefly felt aggrieved at how easily she had been fooled by the woman’s tricks. She still suspected that the widow had lain with her brother-in-law at least once, whether or not she had done so to protect herself for a while longer, to gain a child, or out of simple lust.
Yet was this child fathered by Rainold or Sir William? Miracles occurred and children were begotten after many years of a barren marriage. The prioress doubted that was the case here. If Sir William had been unable to seed a child in his young wife’s womb when he was younger and reliably virile, how probable was it that he succeeded after his manhood had likely weakened? Sister Anne once told her that a man’s potency often declined as his belly swelled, and Sir William impressed her as a one who did love his meat and ale.
Yet the adultery was something Eleanor knew she was unlikely to prove. Rainold was dead, and there were no other witnesses to a night or more of passion. The widow had constructed a fine argument for her virtue, thanks to Eluned’s cooperation, and the prioress was
sure the maid’s fidelity had been bought with a coin more precious than gold and too valuable to reject or ever cast aside.
Perhaps she did not care to prove it either. Rainold might well have killed Lady Mary once he discovered she was pregnant with the rightful heir to the estates. The Church would have prohibited him from marrying his sister-in-law without paying far more than any simple knight could manage. Thus he could not claim the child was his, not Sir William’s. He had also killed two men to inherit and sent another to the gallows to protect himself from the accusation that he had left his post with the soon-to-be slaughtered soldiers to lie with his brother’s wife. By mocking the alleged killer of English soldiers, he had gained popularity with the villagers who would then find no reason to question it when he found a clever way to kill his brother. Why would he let a widow and her presumed legitimate heir live?
Eleanor set her thoughts aside, and the trio of women exchanged polite remarks and meaningless observations for a short while longer.
Soon, the Lady Mary presented a paper granting Tyndal Priory some rents in perpetuity. The visit had ended.
Eleanor and Sister Anne rose.
The Lady Mary knelt and begged a blessing for herself, her dead husband, and their unborn son. It was a gift the Prioress of Tyndal was willing enough to grant, as was her promise that her nuns would add Sir William to their prayers so his suffering in Purgatory might be shorter.
But the day’s surprises were not yet over. As the two religious approached the street door, Lady Mary turned to her maid and said, “I believe you have another visit you must make to that dreadful man who has yet to deliver that order for gloves. It must be cancelled. Perhaps you should leave to speak with him now and accompany our guests for part of their walk back to the lodge house.” Her expression was a curious mix of sadness and amusement.
When the women left the house, Eluned turned to Prioress Eleanor and said, “Have I yet to satisfy you about Hywel’s innocence?”
The prioress smiled. “I shall honor my promise to help in safely getting him on the way to Wales, my child. The trial delayed me. Although I am sure you understood, I grieve that it was necessary.”
Eluned began to weep with joy.
“Dry your tears, child. I need you to use all your cleverness to help me.”
As Sister Anne stepped back and remained alert to anyone approaching, Eleanor and the maid discussed what must happen and when.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Abbot Gerald was confused.
“The exorcism must still be performed,” Eleanor said. “The deaths of Bardolph and Sir William were done by human hand, but the death of Father Payn was not.”
He turned grave as he pondered this. “You fear there is still a malign spirit at work?”
“A being that can now be put to righteous flight from the village. I suspect the failure to do so before was the distraction of evil done by a mortal. Brother Thomas is convinced the exorcism will now be successful.”
The abbot actually bounced with joy. “An army of monks shall march against the creature! I will gather everyone in my abbey…”
“That will not be necessary,” she replied with a solemn expression. “After much thought and prayer, I have been granted the needed guidance in this matter. Brother Thomas must wrestle this spirit alone in the night with the ferocity that Jacob showed in his struggle with God. Only I may accompany him. Since our Order believes that the duty of the abbess and each prioress is to represent the Virgin Mary on Earth, I must be there to offer her support so he may have the needed strength in the contest.” She smiled. “Just as Jacob survived the match, Brother Thomas will be victorious but only if each of us does as is required.” She paused to add emphasis. “Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Tell me what I must do,” the abbot said. “I could wrestle with the cursed thing myself should your monk need respite.”
“Your offer shows admirable faith, but I assure you that the Queen of Heaven will give Brother Thomas all the might he needs.”
Despite his evident regret that he could not join in the battle, Abbot Gerald acquiesced. “What must be done?”
“As the light begins to fail this evening, you and your monks should accompany Brother Thomas and me to the abbey church. On the way, psalms shall be sung to alert the forces of evil that their presence here must end. Once we are inside, Brother Thomas will bolt the doors shut and examine the inside to make sure there is only one opening through which the spirit can enter and leave without coming too close to the altar. I will then call out to you from behind the door that we are ready.”
“We shall maintain a vigil outside, kneel and raise our voices in ardent prayer.”
She bowed her head with honest gratitude. “There is too much danger for that. Once I tell you that the exorcism is about to begin, you and all your monks must swiftly retreat to the abbey. No one is to stay behind or in any way linger on the way. If any man does, his very life and even soul are in danger. As we are all aware, cursed spirits, if thwarted, grow violent, and this one might choose to chase after a monk not surrounded by the holy walls of your abbey.”
“All will be praying to God and would thus remain protected.”
She hesitated. “The Prince of Darkness has agreed to abide by the results of this contest as long as we honor our word on how it will proceed. This news was part of the direction I was given.”
“The Devil has a sense of honor? You truly think he will keep any oath?” Abbot Gerald frowned with evident doubt.
“Wicked and foul though he is,” Eleanor said, “he has never quite forgotten that he was once one of God’s most beautiful and well-loved angels. Do we not call him Lucifer in memory of how he fell from Heaven with the brightness of the morning star? On occasion, it seems, he still longs for God to look on him again with favor and thus retains some flicker of honor.”
Abbot Gerald blinked.
“When the contest is done, and the spirit returned to Satan’s bosom, we shall emerge and send you word. Even then, you must remain in your abbey and offer hosannas in your chapel. Tomorrow, after morning prayers and the evening fast has been broken, I will send for you alone to come to the lodge. We have many matters to discuss.”
“The villagers! Will they not be in danger as well if abroad?”
“Well noted, Abbot Gerald! My brother sent out his men to warn everyone that an exorcism will take place tonight and no one, including those who seek malefactors after sunset, should be on the streets until cock crow. Even Wido, the innkeeper, has agreed to shut his doors to trade.” Albeit only after Robert promised him a bag of coin, Eleanor thought with displeasure.
Abbot Gerald clearly wanted to do more but knew he dared not insist if he wanted this imp gone. After all, he had begged Prioress Eleanor to help after he and his monks had failed. He owed her the courtesy of obedience.
With a nod and appreciative words, Abbot Gerald swore to obey her requests and left to prepare his monks for their duties.
* * *
Prioress Eleanor and Brother Thomas stood in the darkness of the abbey church and waited.
Although she had misled the abbot about what was about to occur, and grieved over the lies she could not carefully rephrase into truth, Eleanor had welcomed the prayers of the monks who accompanied the pair to the church.
Brother Thomas might not be preparing to wrestle with an accursed spirit, but they were both hoping to send a presumed innocent safely away from the village. In ways there was some truth in what was about to happen, even if it was she who had to wrestle with the resolution of this problem instead of her monk striving with a devilish imp.
She still had qualms. Was Hywel truly innocent or was she contributing to a treasonous act by letting a man who had killed defenseless Englishmen escape? Even if she was convinced of his blamelessness, was she wrong to allow him to go to Wales? Lambard, an Englishm
an, had sworn that Hywel had no wish to fight against King Edward and was a peaceful man who only wanted to return to his family. Was the merchant right?
Eleanor began to pace in thought. Her heart told her that there was much to support the conclusion that Hywel could not have been a murdering brigand. For years, he had lived in this village and gained not only the respect of his neighbors but the love of a woman all praised for her goodness. When the Welsh rose in arms against King Edward, he did not go to fight for the king, but neither did he join the army of Dafydd.
Yet the two who knew Hywel best, and swore he was no traitor, were a Welshwoman who loved him and a man Rainold had called a sodomite.
She winced. The sheriff’s murderer had claimed her monk was as well. Looking at Brother Thomas in the shadows, she saw him as a menacing dark shape against a background of even deeper black. Then she shuddered, reminded herself that, to him, she might look just as ominous, and forcefully put all such distracting thoughts aside.
“I think it is time, Brother. The monks should be back in their abbey by now.”
Brother Thomas walked quietly to the back of the church.
She heard him open the door to the crypt but heard no voices.
When he returned, there were two shadows with him. The smaller one lifted a flickering cresset lamp up to her face. It was Eluned. Then the maid passed it to the taller shape next to her, and the light revealed the face of a man Eleanor had never met.
“I am Hywel ap Gruffydd, my lady.” The man’s speech was hoarse. He stepped closer and knelt, still holding the weak light high enough so she could more clearly see his face.
The Twice-Hanged Man Page 20
